


Silent Declarations

by jaqtkd



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Boat Sex, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2018-12-19 18:21:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 71,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11903541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaqtkd/pseuds/jaqtkd
Summary: As plans are made for the Great War, Jon & Dany find themselves inexplicably drawn to each other. Their advisors are concerned but the couple soon realise they work far better as team. The dragons appear to agree, but why are they quite so fascinated by Jon?1st chapter based on 7x07 rumours/leaks with the rest written during the hiatus & taking a unique route into S8.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter written for Jonerys Smut Fest on Tumblr and based on rumours/leaks about 7x07 before it aired. After writing the last sentence. however, the plot 'dragons' began flying and I decided to continue into S8 territory in my own unique way.

“Why?”

Daenerys paces in her cabin, constantly mumbling the word to herself, even though she isn't entirely sure what question she's asking.

_'Why did he bend the knee when I'd already agreed to support him?'_

_'Why did holding his hand feel like the most passionate of love making?'_

_'Why did it seem as if he meant something else when he called me his queen?'_

_'Why does it feel like I'm walking through fire every time I'm close to him?'_

Ever since their intimate conversation at his bedside, being around Jon Snow has been delightful torture. She had left his room for very good reason then, overwhelmed by the looks he was giving her and her own unexpectedly strong emotions. So many men have desired her, worshipped her and confessed their love to her but this is different. _He_ is different. It makes no sense how thrilling it feels being close to him.

And she is cross with herself for being so unguarded because of it. Not that she has ever been good at fooling those close to her in regards to her feelings, but she knows that they _all_ know now … all know what he feels for her and what she is beginning to feel for him.

She shakes her head as she changes into her nightdress, trying to deny it and still dwelling on their earlier conversation and how Jon had somehow managed to turn a perfectly reasonable conversation about her inability to have children into something else entirely.

He had frowned at her comment, considering. "Why are you telling me this?"

“You've supported my claim publicly now,” she replied, “and so it's only right you understand that I can have no heirs. That you understand what that might mean to the succession.”

He shook his head slowly, his gaze never once leaving her and a small, sly smile now on his lips. “Why are you telling me this _again_?”

He had been amused because he guessed the real reason. Guessed that her feelings for him had changed and that it was only a matter of time before this tension, this … whatever it was between them … would have to be addressed. And it wouldn't even be a bad idea; a marriage alliance between her and her new Warden of the North but ...

At the time, Jon's question had thrown her and she could do nothing more than shake her head, quite unable to put any of that into words, even though she'd had no problems proposing such an alliance before.

“It doesn't matter to me,” he had said in response. “Whatever your reason for telling me. It doesn't change how I feel.”

“About my ruling the Seven Kingdoms?”

He shook his head again, his gaze still on her. “It doesn't change how I feel about you.”

And she had bolted … again. Strode straight back to her cabin without looking back. Why? Why does he always do this to her? Why does she feel totally unable to talk through her feelings with him?

~o~0~o~

The knock on the cabin door makes her jump and she turns to see Jon already standing inside; his back against the door and his eyes wild. She licks her lips as she takes note of the state he is in, knowing that, despite all her nervousness, she won't be telling him off for entering without permission and certainly won't be turning him away.

He's wearing far fewer clothes than is his custom – just a shirt and trousers - and is just staring at her, lips slightly parted, stunned to see her in just her nightdress. Then his gaze changes back to the one she is seeing far more often now. The one full of adoration. The one which makes it hard to breathe.

_'Why ...?'_

She starts to form the question but he shakes his head, a finger on his lips and a nervous glance at the door behind him. She nods, understanding and silently agreeing. They might not of been able to hide their growing attraction from the others but this … this is for them and them alone. They manage to convey so much in that one, long look and so when Jon nods back, it is as if he has actually asked her out loud if he can stay and as if she has verbally agreed. He places one hand behind his back, grabs the door bolt and draws it across aggressively, the wildness briefly back, before turning again to regard her fully, breathing heavily again. Then he crosses the room in two quick strides and Daenerys gasps, fully expecting him to grab her and take her there and then and realising she won't mind one little bit.

But he stops short, his gaze still burning right through her as he slowly raises one hand and places it gently on her cheek. Just holding hands with him had made her insides twist but this action sets them on fire and, as he moves his thumb to gently stroke her lower lip, she remembers a story Doreah once told her and wonders if it is possible for him to finish her there and then without either of them having even undressed.

It is totally unexpected, this side of Jon Snow. She knew he was a great warrior even before they'd met and, as such, had actually felt disappointed when she'd first set eyes on him and compared him to those fighters she had known in Essos. Handsome, certainly, and with a certain presence, but it was only when she'd flown north and seen him in action that she'd fully understood what she'd been told; seeing that pure and beautiful fighting rage put to good use and falling in love with him there and then. She nods, only then realising that that was when it had happened. And yet this? This beautiful, gentle soul with his intense gaze and fiery touches? Where does _this_ part come from?

 _'He should be ice,'_ she thinks, _'but he's fire too … just like me.'_

She frowns, wondering why an image of Jon touching Drogon has just appeared in her head at that moment. That had shown his braveness, of course, but it had shown something else. Her dragons just didn't allow someone to approach them like that, not unless she'd given them her permission.

Her two dragons.

Tears filled her eyes at the thought and Jon lifts her chin, a look of concern on his face and sympathy radiating from him in waves. He won't understand, she realises, he'll think she's changing his mind and that just won't do at all. So, she lifts her head to quickly kiss his lips and even this brief taste of him sets her body on fire. How will she survive any more?

Again she had expected – hoped – that this move would set him alight too. Would allow him to drop his guard and just take her but, to her frustration, he kisses her back even more tenderly; small gentle touches which she would describe as chaste if it wasn't for the tiny licks and nibbles he's employing. _'He's trying to kill me,'_ she decides as she allows herself to melt in his embrace.

It is no good. It is going to take all night if she lets him dictate the pace and so, with a loud sigh, she takes one step away from him and, with his intense gaze still on her, allows her nightdress to fall to the floor.

Daenerys has never had any qualms about her nakedness, having been quite often in a state of undress in public. And when she had emerged from the fires like this, everyone's reaction had been one of devotion rather than desire and that had always felt right. But not with Jon. She doesn't want his devotion – not in that way – no, she wants his love and, right now she just wants him.

And then, to her shock, he does just that – the very last thing she would ever expect him to do in private. He closes the small space between them and drops down on one knee, head bowed, worshipping her.

She actually feels disappointed and hurt. ' _Not in here,_ _'_ she thinks. _'_ _Th_ _is is_ _not what_ _I want_ _from_ _you_ _at all._ _'_

And then he raised his head ever so slightly and she catches his smirk and the sparkle in his eyes and realises he's playing with her, even is she's not entirely sure of the game. Jon then uses his raised knee to move himself even closer and, to her total surprise, kisses her lightly between her legs.

Having gone so slowly up until now, this sudden move is a delightful shock and Daenerys quickly plants her feet further apart and places her hands on his head, encouraging him to continue whilst her fingers grasp his dark curls. This is what Missandei had whispered to her about Greyworm - between delighted giggles – and, despite her previous lovers, Daenerys had never experienced anything like this before. He stops briefly to place a finger against his lips again and she assumes she must have made some noise, but he has already resumed his ministrations and all she can focus on then are the waves and waves of fire that are rippling through her body at his tongue's expert touch.

She steps away from him then, shaking her head, just overcome by the intensity of it all. Too much, too soon but, more to the point, Jon's still fully dressed and that just won't do at all.

She returns to him quickly, grabbing at the hem of his shirt and is not surprised when he stills her hands, uncertainty and nervousness now marring his handsome features. She's seen his scars already, of course, but currently has other reasons for wanting him undressed. Finally he removes the shirt himself and she moves forward hungrily, gently tracing a lazy line around the vicious marks on his abdomen with one finger. Then she ducks her head to kiss the largest scar over his heart and raises her head, arching an eyebrow and silently scolding him for implying Ser Davos was exaggerating. At least he has the grace to look embarrassed at being caught out and it will be interesting to find out the full truth of the matter at some later date but, right now, she's far more interested in kissing the rest of him - just as much of him as she can possibly lay her lips on. Now it's Jon's turn to gasp and her turn to tease him into silence, all the while subtly untying his trousers, now desperate to see him naked.

He doesn't disappoint. He may be short for a warrior, but so well proportioned and muscular, and she winces again at her own tactlessness when talking to Tyrion before flying north. She had dismissed Jon as a common northern lord, a bastard, and far beneath her, but that assessment no longer feels right; not now she's seen his battle skills, not now she's seen his heart. Honestly, it would take little for her to be persuaded to grant him the north and even give him his kingship back except …

Perhaps there is a better solution?

Now it is Daenerys' turn for stillness, happy to just stand admiring him for a while, although Jon doesn't seem as comfortable with his nakedness as she does and she has to admit that his squirming amuses her. With her previous thought still foremost in her mind and with a cheeky smile on her lips, she copies his earlier gesture; going down on one knee and bowing her head.

 _'Only in private, Jon Snow. Don't you_ dare _get used to it.'_

She doesn't want to take her eyes of him for long. Never mind his body, she wants to see his reaction to her bending the knee and the look of total shock on his face is reward enough, never mind the darkness in his eyes which hints at his mounting desire. He may not have sought his various honours but this gesture of hers appears to have really turned him on. Definitely worth taking note for future reference, she decides.

He shakes his head and offers his hands, wanting her back on her feet, but she hadn't finished her game of copy cat yet and raises herself just high enough for her head to reach hip height so she could give him her own intimate kiss in return for his earlier favour. She takes her time, tasting, liking and caressing him until he jumps away from her as if burnt, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths. She smirks, fully understanding that this move is purely a chance to collect himself and ensure he lasts a little longer and, indeed, he's soon pulling her back to her feet, again kissing her lips with more of those exceptionally gentle, painfully tantalising touches which drive her wild with desire, whilst his hands trace gentle lines across her breasts. She pulls herself closer, attempting to deepen the kisses but he resists, continuing with the soft, romantic touches despite their current nakedness. Daenarys opens her mouth to scold him, to order him to let himself go, only to find his finger on _her_ lips and a smirk on his own. She glares at him for his teasing, snapping at the offending digit and taking it into her mouth, making quite sure she has his full attention before sucking it slowly and very, very suggestively. His eyes widen, now full of desire and she silently celebrates his reaction, enjoying wielding this sort of power far more than any other she possesses.

Jon growls softly, a glint in his eye as he moves forwards, taking her gently by the shoulders until she's sitting on the side of her bed. Then he drops back down to the floor, opening her knees and kissing her between her legs again and she revels in this brief show of aggression, opening her legs even wider, hoping that, as much as she has enjoyed all of this, he's ready to get more serious.

 _'Jon.'_ She tries to resist calling his name out loud, tries to keep in mind just how little privacy these cabins offer, but she's hopelessly lost now, fully consumed by her desire for this beautiful man full of contradictions. When he stands back up, it's still the wild Jon in front of her - hands on the bed as he leans over her - and she takes full advantage of the move, hooking her legs around his hips to put herself in the perfect position for him to enter her. Surely he's had enough of this teasing now?

Not entirely it seems because, although he does then start to slide inside her, it is so slow, so incredibly gentle that she feels like screaming in frustration. And he's giving her that look again, the one that somehow managed to knot her stomach even when he wasn't touching her. Now though he's fully inside her and she gasps, stunned at how close she is to finishing when he's not even moving.

 _Why_ isn't he moving?

He's looming over her - eyes now black with desire, lips red from her small bites - and his next kiss is deeper, although still amazingly tender considering their position. Finally he does moves out and then in but it's still slow and again she glares at him, opening her mouth to scold him, and again receives a finger on her lips for her trouble. And that smirk is back, proving that Jon knows exactly what he's doing to her. They don't last long, those sly smiles, always quickly replaced by that look of total adoration ... No, that's not what she's seeing. So, so many men adore her but this is different. This is so much more.

She pushes at his chest whilst simultaneously scooting backwards on the bed, lying down and opening her legs wide to tempt him to lose control. He follows her, scrambling onto the bed but lying next to her, kissing her romantically again, a lazy hand trailing fire down her body; her breasts, her stomach, between her legs. It is all too much. The sexual frustration she can handle but, the way he looks at her, the emotions he manages to evoke? She feels tears sting her eyes and she's not even sure why.

Time to take control, she decides, and now he's lying down it's easy for her to straddle him and show him exactly how good she is at riding. She drops down fairly heavily, hoping to start increasing the speed and find the aggression that she saw in him beyond the Wall. And, for a moment, she has him. His head tilts back, his eyes flutter and she smiles and follows suit, only looking down when she feels his hands on her breasts. She starts to speed up but he's soon moving his hands down to her hips, stilling her before caressing her between her legs. He's obviously determined not to get ahead of her, although that's hardly an issue - she's been close to the edge since the very first touch of his hands on her cheek and, if only he wouldn't keep stopping ...

She tries to move again but he somehow manages to turn them over whilst remaining inside her and then, in the most aggressive move he's employed since he slid the bolt on the cabin door, Jon grabs her wrists and pins them by her head, thrusting hard a few times before pausing and gazing at her yet again.

"Not Dany?"

It's the first words that either of them have properly spoken and she smiles, realising she can now no longer remember anyone else calling her by that name. Now it is only for Jon to use.

" _My_ Dany." It's a low whisper, almost a growl, and totally possessive and then he moves again, not especially quickly but far deeper than before and the soft tremors she's been experiencing turn instantly to a wave of ecstasy. She gasps and tilts her head back, but his hands have let go of her wrists and are now on her face, forcing her to look at him. He wants to see her at the end and she nods gently, desperate to see him too. "My queen," he says and, the emotion in his voice and the look in his eyes prove that he's definitely _not_ talking about swearing fealty this time.

"Jon," she gasps, now fully acknowledging her own feelings for him and where she wants this relationship to end up. "My king."

Outside the ship, flying high above, two dragons roar their approval.

~o~0~o~


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your lovely responses to my little 7x07 #boatsex guess. Although it didn't fit 100% with canon, it wasn't that far off either. I certainly got the 'Jon stopping to gaze into her eyes' bit right! That also means I can happily carry on with at least two more chapters with few continuity issues. 
> 
> For this chapter I'm switching to Jon's pov and the tense that I'm more comfortable writing in. No idea what happened in chapter 1. For some reason it just would not allow itself to be written any other way.

Jon had never felt anything like this. When he looked at Daenerys it felt as if the world around him had turned grey and she was the only thing left in colour. He had been struck by her beauty from the first moment he'd set eyes on her, and the months spent in her company had only intensified his desire. He'd never once attempted to deny his feelings for her - even if he had initially tried to ignore them - but, back then, he'd been certain that the queen had not felt the same way and that had made it easier to push his day dreams firmly to one side.

He wasn't sure exactly when he had fallen in love with her. It may have been in the caves; watching her bathed in torch light whilst she gazed in wonder at the ancient art. Or possibly during their conversation after he'd first interacted with her dragon. Perhaps it hadn't fully happened until she came to his aid beyond the wall; the type of warrior princess he'd always imagined as a youth, flying her fire breathing dragon to save him as if she were the knight and he the damsel in distress.

But any doubts he had about the strength of his feelings had fled when he'd opened her eyes afterwards to find her sitting at his bedside and, along with them, all earlier promises not to act on those feelings. So, he had taken her hand and did not want to let go - realised that he _never_ wanted to let go - and he had felt strangely, desperately empty when she had abruptly left his cabin on the pretence of letting him rest.

Not that he had felt personally affronted by the move. He had spent his life learning how to observe and understand people and knew she was simply confused by her feelings for him. And, as odd as that felt in some ways, he realised that she _did_ now care for him. Why else would she have risked so much to fly to his aid? Why else would she have reached out for _his_ hand and looked at him that way?

So, Jon understood Daenerys simply needed time to come to terms with everything and doubted he would have quite been so forward if he'd been fully in his right mind anyway. And so, as his health and strength returned, so did his common sense and he did his best to focus on the mission again and prepare for their vital and dangerous confrontation with Cersei in the Dragonpit.

Well, yes, perhaps he hadn't _quite_ put aside his feelings for Dany during _that_ meeting either. Thank the old gods and the new for Tryion Lannister.

From that moment on, their relationship progressed far more quickly and, once they'd started their long journey north, and with little to do but fret, Jon's resolve about keeping his distance began to weaken and it wasn't long before he found himself knocking at her cabin door, wondering what had happened to the infamous Stark honour everyone had cursed him for at King's Landing.

~o~0~o~

Making love to Daenerys had been …

Jon looked down at the woman now in his arms and found it impossible to even think of words to describe the experience. He just knew he loved her, body, heart and soul and couldn't believe that she had let him through the door, never-mind having been a very willing and passionate accomplice in all that had followed.

She sighed then, a soft smile on her face as she lay on his shoulder, and Jon marvelled at how much younger his queen looked when she was happy and how the way she had gazed at him earlier had turned him on far more than than her kisses or even the sight of her naked body.

A loud knock made him jump and Dany sat up instantly, automatically grabbing a robe by her chair and heading straight for the door with no apparent concern for this awkward situation. Jon, however yelped, suddenly terrified at being discovered in the queen's cabin and, without really thinking about it, threw himself onto the floor so the bed would hide him from the view of the door.

“Your Grace?” The soft, musical voice of Missandei sounded clearly along with the click of the bolt and door sliding.

“What is it?”

“The dragons … did you not hear them? Everyone is very concerned.”

Jon frowned, confused, trying to grab at a memory of the strange pull he had only been vaguely aware of during those final moments of bliss as he'd fully claimed the dragon queen as his own. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes as his body started to react to that memory.

“I … I'm not sure I did.” Dany's voice sounded full of confusion.

“They both roared and were flying frantically around us. Ser Jorah thought perhaps they sensed something? An attack or ...”

“ _Both_ dragons?”

“Yes, and they do still seem a little … agitated?”

“I sense nothing from Drogon,” Dany replied. “I think he's just grumbling about me being back in a boat again. He was always happier when we were both on dry land together.”

“Well, if you're quite certain?”

“Tell the guards to keep an extra eye out,” the queen continued calmly, “but I don't think it's of any real concern.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

Jon heard the door close and bolt slide and cautiously knelt up to see Daenerys staring at him with one elegant eyebrow raised. “What are you doing down there?” she asked.

“I didn't want anyone to see me here.”

She laughed lightly. “As if I care what anyone else thinks of this.”

“I … I don't understand.”

She shook her head, untying her robe and taking her time, making sure he had a good, long look at her nakedness. “Come back to bed, Jon. I haven't finished with you yet.”

And yet, despite her words, he could tell she was distracted by her conversation with Missandei.

He lay back next to her, trying not to notice how her eyes were hungrily roaming over his body and avoiding looking at hers so he could focus on what he wanted to say. Words never came easily to him at the best of times, and it was even harder when he was distracted. She lay down facing him, not quite touching but close enough for Jon to feel her breath on him and he took her hands and gazed at her in wonder, the moonlight through the window, making her skin and hair appear to glow.

“Is that a usual thing with the dragons?” he managed, slightly nervous about what her answer might reveal about her previous lovers. “Do you think perhaps they were reacting to … what we were doing?”

“I've never heard of that before, but then I don't really have personal evidence for it one way or another as they weren't even born when I was married and, after that ...” She smirked slightly, apparently reading something of his jealousy in his expression. “… No, that's never happened before and I can't imagine Drogon being upset by it, not seeing how much he likes you.”

“He does?”

She laughed. “You wouldn't be here if you'd tried to touch him and he _hadn't_ liked you.”

He winced. “Fair enough.”

“No, I'm sure it's a co-incidence and that they're still just upset about ...” She swallowed, looking down. “I suppose we'll find out for certain next time.”

“Next time?” he breathed and she raised her eyebrow again. “I mean … I didn't want to presume ...”

“Did you not understand what I meant when I called you my king?”

“I ...” Honestly, he hadn't been thinking about much of anything from the moment she'd opened her door to him. “I … thought it was part of the game, like when you bent the knee to me?”

Her smile was almost shy. “Not entirely.”

“You … you will let me continue to be the King in the North, despite my pledge to you?”

“Maybe but, again, that wasn't quite what I meant. I was thinking … hoping ... that our alliance could be something … more.” He frowned and she laughed brightly. “Gods you really don't have an self serving bone in your body, do you?”

“Dany?”

“Don't you realise how perfect a marriage alliance between us would be?”

He gaped at her, wondering if he'd perhaps felt asleep and was dreaming all of this. “I suppose ...?”

“As I've been regularly reminded, I cannot come over here and just tell everyone I am the rightful queen. My brother and I grew up being told that the whole of Westeros still loved us and wanted us back, but it didn't take long for me to realise that wasn't true. In recent years everyone's been hitting me over the head with it: Jorah, Ser Barriston, Tyrion ...” She grinned. “You. I've been constantly told that I will need to _prove_ myself to the people and probably make a marriage alliance in order to gain their full acceptance.”

“And Tyrion suggested me?” Jon asked.

“Not in so many words.” She frowned. “And I'm surprised he's not mentioned it, in fact, seeing he knows how I feel about you now.”

“He does?”

She laughed lightly. “He's known how _you_ _'ve_ felt for a while and although, at the time, I wasn't even sure of my own feelings, I realise in hindsight that he knew well before I did.”

“That man is far too clever for his own good.”

She smiled. “Perhaps, but now we know that Cersei is the real living threat to my rule and that the Night King is the threat in the north, it is the _north_ I need to ally myself with. Those who support me will easily accept you as _my_ king and the Northmen will hopefully accept me as your queen, despite my blood.”

“And what of Winterfell?”

She shrugged. “Your sister can be Wardeness of the North, if you have no other suitable successor in mind.”

“Really?” He smiled. “That would be a first, I think.”

“Hmm, perhaps I should make all my Wardens ladies and have the title pass through the female line?”

He chuckled. “Good luck with that one.”

Her returning smile was softer, her gaze somehow managing to penetrate his very being. “I thought I'd have to make yet another purely political alliance. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I could marry for love.” She sighed, placing a hand on his cheek. “And I _do_ love you, Jon.”

He knew it of course - he had seen it in her eyes earlier - but her saying it somehow made it all the more real and he couldn't help himself, leaning forward to kiss her, his body unsubtly suggesting that it might be time for a second round. He loved her reaction to the move, the way she appeared to just melt into the bed, her arms gently caressing him and sending sparks through his body. However, despite his mounting desire, despite his need to keep kissing her, he forced himself to pull away, to look deep into her eyes in an attempt to convince himself that this was real and not a dream and that she really did feel the same way about him.

“I love you too, Dany,”

She gasped, a sudden flare of desire quite obvious in her light eyes and then, in a heartbeat, she was up and straddling him, riding him hard before he'd even managed to register the move. Earlier Jon had had to constantly fight to keep that side of her tamed, to let her allow him to seduce her slowly, but he wanted this too, despite his nervousness about how much harder it was going to be to keep quiet if she continued with this aggression.

He stared at her - head thrown back, moonlit hair cascading down her body - and slid his hands up to caress her; her legs, her hips, her stomach and then her breasts but, despite the passion, it somehow just wasn't enough.

“I need … to kiss you,” he gasped.

She paused, breathing heavily, her eyes flashing as she adjusted her hips slightly so she could lean down and press her lips against his. Kissing her whilst inside her was the most thrilling part of this, Jon was certain and, although this position felt slightly less pleasurable, it did have the benefit of calming him a little; hopefully allowing him to last a little longer.

When that finally wasn't enough, he pulled them both up to a sitting position, allowing him to reach between her legs and ensure she wasn't left behind. She was stirred up now, however, and constantly fought him, pushing him back onto the bed and dropping down on him even harder than before whilst her eyes challenged him, daring him to try to keep up.

Jon had assumed that, after Ygritte, such aggressive passion would not be too much of a problem for him, but he was in for a rude awakening. He'd not fully appreciated just how much he had had to work to calm Dany that last time - just how much fire she held within her. How could such a little thing be quite so strong? How could she so easily turn him over and pin him down? Her passion somehow fuelled his though; each time he briefly gained control giving him the courage to be just a little rougher, a little more forceful, until he was almost biting his tongue in an effort to keep silent. But then she'd flip him over again as if she knew exactly the moment he was getting close and was deliberately teasing him. She probably was. He had attempted to dictate the pace during their first time together and she had obviously decided it was time to get her own back. Well, he certainly wasn't going to complain, even though he was likely to have numerous scratch marks and bites he would have to try and hide tomorrow.

And yet, despite all this passion, Jon suddenly experienced an odd sensation near the end, as if a part of his mind had detached somehow and was no longer in this cabin but somehow high above and looking down at the black and red sails of the boat as it sailed through the night. Strange words and thoughts entered his head, along with a strong sensation of home which somehow felt like Winterfell whilst simultaneiously reminding him that he did not belong there.

 _'Winterfell is my home,'_ he insisted. ' _I am Winterfell.'_

 _'No,'_ the voice replied. _'This is home._ She _is home.'_

And it was true, Jon realised as he whispered her name in her ear. Right now, in this one moment, Daenerys was all that mattered to him.

_Love is the death of duty._

Maester Aamon's words tried to make themselves heard but that other voice was much louder and now Jon found himself pulled abruptly back to earth, gazing into the eyes of his love - his soul mate - and all other thoughts left his mind as they both cried out each other's name in ecstasy.

This time, however, the two answering dragon calls were very much more obvious.

~o~0~o~

They both sat up in shock, still breathing heavily.

“I don't understand though,” Daenerys gasped. “Drogon perhaps but ...”

She was up out of bed already, heading to a chest and searching for one particular dress, stepping into it quickly before wrapping it around her and attaching a clasp at her shoulder. She looked fully dressed, despite how little she was actually wearing and, with a quick check of her reflection in a small mirror, strode purposefully towards to door.

“Get dressed quickly and follow me out in a little while,” she urged. “Despite my lack of concern about us earlier, I don't want them making _this_ particular connection if I can possibly help it.”

Jon hadn't moved, still coming down from the second high in an hour and wondering how this women had managed to make him feel battle weary after just two sessions in bed. He currently had no idea why she had left so abruptly or what she was planning but did as she'd suggested, dressing and checking his own reflection and hoping that his current appearance would be put down to having been rudely awoken by two dragons rather than having been thoroughly ravished by one.

He grinned at the thought, listening carefully through the door and making certain it was clear before heading up on deck from the direction of his own cabin.

He emerged to the incredible sight of both dragons hovering above a busy deck whilst Daenerys raised a hand towards them; her hair blowing in the wind and her dress skirts flapping and rudely reminded Jon of the fact she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath.

“Focus,” he mumbled as he put his mind into acting the part he assumed he now had to play.

Tyrion had noticed him. “My Lord.” Everyone turned to follow his gaze.

“What's up with them?” Jon asked roughly, nodding towards the dragons.

“We see no threat,” Greyworm said. “Despite the darkness we are certain that there are no other ships near.”

Dany lowered her hand and turned towards them, pointedly avoiding looking at Jon and sighed with what appeared to be genuine sadness. “I think they just miss their brother,” she said.

It was a good ploy, Jon decided. Everyone dropped their gaze, nervous about making a response to such a sensitive subject and, for good measure, he followed suit. The dragons, now apparently calmed, flew off to do whatever it was they usually did during the night.

“Well,” said Tyrion eventually, “I hope they're not going to continue to do ... _that_ all the way to White Harbor.”

Jon glanced up and instantly regretted it when he saw the wicked sparkle in the dwarf's eyes.

“Because if _they_ keep on making all that noise every night then I'm quite sure none of us are going to get any sleep.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not quite as much sexiness but a chance for a little more humour.
> 
> So yes, I am continuing with this and already have much of chapter 3 mapped out with a nice hole in the middle for their next sexual encounter. Whilst trying to decide what to do with that, I thought I'd leave it as a prompt for you guys. They'll still be on the ship and in her cabin but, otherwise, what would you like to see between these two?
> 
> In fanfiction, I always prefer writing in-between canon rather than going dramatically AU so I'm also thinking I'll write a separate one-shot at some point which fills in the gap between the door and the end ... or even the gap between the final painted table scene and the end.


	3. Chapter 3

Daenerys felt utterly exhausted the following morning and yet she revelled in the sensation. She took her time getting ready, constantly fighting the soft smile which threatened at each memory of the night before, whilst simultaneously worrying about how easy it would be for others to read the feelings on her face. Tyrion's comment up on deck had made it obvious that he already knew what had happened between her and Jon but, as far as she could tell, the others were none the wiser. For now.

Not that she was especially concerned about discovery for her own sake - although Jon obviously was - but, as she had said last night, it was this odd issue with the dragons which was concerning her now, something about it making her nervous for reasons she couldn't fully understand.

Why had they _both_ reacted like that?

She had a special bond with Drogon, as all riders had, enough to know that he had sensed the passion and been curious and excited by it, but Rhaegal? She understood that dragons only bonded with their rider and had assumed that that was why she had always felt less of a connection to her two smallest children, but perhaps last night required her to re-examine that theory.

She and Jon had felt no need to speak to each other when they were up on deck last night, some unspoken agreement prompting them to head back to their own cabins in an attempt to grab some rest. Daenerys had managed that surprisingly easily, quickly drifting off to sleep with a soft smile and Jon's name on her lips, and her dreams full of desire and dragons.

In many ways it was fortunate that everyone else had had a disturbed night too, as it gave the new lovers more of an excuse for their bleary eyed appearance the following morning, and the queen cut their usual, daily meeting short as a result, using the lack of new information as an excuse. Daenerys tried _so_ hard not to look at Jon during the session, but could somehow sense him anyway, quite convinced she could walk into any room blindfolded and be able to move unerringly to his side.

However, as her advisors dispersed, she finally dared to look up and saw everything in his expression that she'd hoped; a sparkle in his eyes and the merest twitch of his lips letting her know that he would be definitely visiting her cabin again that night.

And so here they were again, with Jon leaning his back on the door and breathing heavily whilst somehow managing to undress her with his eyes.

“Well, Tyrion knows then?” she said, lightly.

“Apparently. Hopefully we can keep it quiet from the others for a little while longer.” His smile was small and sad and Daenerys was suddenly desperate to see him laugh - to really let go. A new challenge, she decided.

“Missandei changes my sheets and knows me very well so she'll soon work it out and how long do you think it'll take Davos to discover that the next door cabin is so often empty?”

“I know. Really I _do_ understand, it's just ...” He moved closer, folding her into his arms and gently kissing her forehead. “I'm just being selfish really. I want you all to myself. I want … this to be just for us.”

Her insides twisted beautifully. “Gods, how did I ever think I'd be able to resist you?”

He pulled her closer, sighing deeply. “I just worry about what everyone will think and whether we should really be involved at all with this war going on and ...”

“Ssh!” She pulled away to kiss him very gently on the lips. “I told you. There is no reason for anyone to object from a political standpoint and getting involved before we marry is not going to have any other consequences either.”

“But what if that witch was wrong?”

“Jon, I told you … relax … just enjoy this.”

He chuckled, pressing his hips against hers. “Relax, she says. I've not been 'relaxed' around you since I first set foot in your throne room.”

She hit him lightly on the arm. “Behave.”

“I can't. I can't relax and I can't behave. Every time I look at you I just want you and that includes during council meetings.”

She laughed. “Right, and taking me on the table in front of everyone would _really_ help to keep this a secret.”

His eyes sparkled and she marvelled at how easily she could read him. How she knew exactly what he was going to say before he said it. “That sounds interesting.”

“I thought you wanted to keep this a secret?”

His smile was lighter then, making her even more determined to see him fully let go and laugh. She ran her hand across his beard, caressing his cheek.

“I still can't believe this,” he said. “Can't believe you feel the same way.” He sighed. “I just wish we'd found each other earlier.”

“Perhaps.” She smiled. “Do you think we would have felt the same?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation. “I've spent my life searching for you.”

The revelation made her heart skip. “And I've dreamt of you for as long as I can remember. I could never quite see your face but I think I've known for some time.” She nodded. “ I … recognised you, that first day I think, and my dreams _always_ come true.”

He sprung forwards then, kissing her passionately, open mouthed and hungry - the wolf in him, she decided - but it wasn't long before his lips left hers and his eyes devoured her instead. _That_ gaze again, the one which left her knees trembling.

“We should slow down perhaps?” she suggested. “Talk a bit. There's so much I want to know about you still and-”

“-Later.” His usual deep voice became even lower and softer. “Now though you will undress for me.”

It was a command and, afterwards, Dany would wonder at how quickly she had scrambled to obey, how suddenly her deep seated superiority had deserted her and how turned on she'd felt by his authority. This was the side of Jon she'd only really seen north of the Wall but, right then, she could not get out of her clothes quickly enough.

“There's a good little dragon.” He walked forward and she giggled, taking a few steps back towards the bed, her heart pouncing with anticipation and, the next thing she knew she was on her back on top of the covers and his head was between her legs, kissing her, licking her, touching her in ways she had never experienced with her previous lovers and this time he gave her no chance to collect her thoughts or return the favour, still fully dressed whilst he quickly and expertly pushed her over the edge.

“Jon!”

Only Drogon had reacted that time, she thought idly, as her wolf continued to toy with her, but thankfully the dragon wasn't as close to the ship as before and it was unlikely anyone else would have heard. She had tried to make him understand yesterday. Tried to suggest that he flew to land and stayed there at night, no matter how curious he was about these new emotions he sensed, but what she had with the dragons wasn't really telepathy, just in innate sense of empathy, of understanding without words. Rather like it was with her and Jon.

She cried out a second time and felt the push and curiosity from Drogon again along with another distant, faint roar. “Jon … please … your turn.”

“Not finished with you yet,” he mumbled, “I just want to keep making you happy.”

“I thought you said you were selfish?”

“I am. You're _my_ little dragon and I don't ever want to release you.”

It was all too much and yet, somehow, it wasn't enough either. How many times could her body keep doing this? Wave after wave of pleasure, every nerve trembling and burning her body in a way that fire never did. In her mind's eye she saw a long shaft of ice heading in slow motion towards her beloved Viserion.

_Fire cannot kill a dragon but ice certainly can and this Snow will be the death of me, I'm sure._

She had lost two children already and perhaps this Great War would claim another. Or maybe Jon? Her noble, heroic lover was reckless in battle as she had seen for herself. What of the Iron Throne? What of the succession?

'I'm just selfish,' he had said but it was only then, as yet another wave of ecstasy washed over her that Daenerys realised with horror exactly why Tyrion had not proposed a marriage alliance with the Lord of Winterfell and her extreme high suddenly crashed to a desperate, tearful low.

“Dany?” Jon's voice sounded low and hoarse. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head. “No, it's ...” His look of concern just made her even more emotional and she started to cry bitterly, whilst her lover simply held her in his arms, rocking her gently and kissing her hair.

“It's all right, my love.” The unexpected endearment spoken so gently in his northern accent was making this so much harder. “Please tell me what's wrong.”

“You said you were selfish but it's not true,” she managed eventually. “You never could be. All you do is give and give but, not me. I'm the selfish one here and I've just been swept up in all of this and I never thought. I never once ...”

“Hush, love,” he mumbled, kissing her hair.

“I want to marry you and rule the Seven Kingdoms with you and ...” She sat up, hugging her knees to her stomach and trying hard not to look at him. Not trusting her resolve if she dared gaze into those dark depths.

“I know. It was a shock when you said it but, to be by your side, to help you and work with you to build a better world. That's now my dream too.”

“No,” she replied firmly. “Our alliance needs to be purely political, I realise that now. We cannot allow our feelings to interfere with something this important.”

He too sat up, frowning. “What are you on about?”

“I've just realised why Tyrion isn't in favour of this as I had expected. He's been nagging me about the succession for a while, but I hadn't fully understood his concern until just now.”

Jon's face darkened. “He has no right to pick at that wound.”

She gave a weak smile. “There you go again. How do you expect me to let you go when you continue to be so adorable.”

He frowned. “I _don't_ expect you to let me go. I don't want to go anywhere. Not without you.”

She shook her head. “We form a political alliance and fight the Night King together.” She suddenly felt calmer. Resolved. “Then, assuming we survive _that_ war, we'll turn our attention towards Cersei. Once we have the Iron Throne I name you as my successor and then _you_ can assure the future of the realm. You can ... marry someone else. Someone who can give you an heir to rule after you.”

“What?” She made the mistake of looking at him then and the look of hurt on his face was more than she could bear. “I thought we were going to change things? I thought you wanted to break the wheel.”

She frowned. “Where did you hear that?”

He shrugged. “I don't remember. Somewhere. Daenerys, how many times do I have to tell you. You not being able to have children doesn't matter to me.” She shook her head, not believing him. “It's true. Why do you think I joined the Night's Watch in the first place?”

“I … I'm not sure? Because you felt it was somewhere you could gain prestige, even without a family name?”

“Partially. The main objection given to me when I first asked to join was that I was far too young to understand what it meant to take no wife and father no children, but that wasn't entirely true. I had, in fact, given it a lot of thought from the first day I was offered a session at a brothel.”

She dared to look at him then although, fortunately, his gaze was now on the bed, his customary frown back on his face. _'And I had_ _so wanted to see him_ _laugh.'_

“What happened?” she asked, genuinely fascinated to find out more about his early life.

“I turned her down. I didn't want to sire a bastard and I knew it was unlikely I'd have a chance to marry well so I joined the Night's Watch because of that and … as you said … a chance to succeed where my status was not going to be a barrier.”

“Some say you broke your oath by leaving the Order, but that really doesn't sound like you.”

“I have not always been honourable and I did break one … well, I sort of broke two.” He frowned. “I did try to run away when I first heard what had happened to my father and I did lie with a wildling girl because … “ He winced. “Well, it was an act really … part of my cover and ...” Daenerys raised an eyebrow, amused by his sudden embarrassment and Jon chuckled. “Well, yes, not _much_ of an act perhaps but, despite all of that, I didn't break the big one when I left for good.”

“I thought it was for life?”

He shrugged. “It was but ...” He loosened the laces on his shirt, revealing the large scar at his heart. “But then I died.”

Daenerys gasped, struggling to come to terms with the words, despite the evidence in front of her. “But then … how …?”

He shrugged. “A Red Priestess brought me back.”

“I've heard of those practises.” She frowned. “And you being allowed to return means …?”

He shrugged. “That I still had work to do here, I suppose.”

She smiled. “You certainly did.”

“And so, you see, I decided a long time ago that children were not in my future and my current status doesn't really change that. If your witch was wrong and it _is_ possible for you to have a baby then ...” He gave her a wry smile. “Then I definitely _will_ be marrying you because, as I said, I will not bring a child into the world who has to suffer a bastard name.”

“But none of that matters any more,” she disagreed. “And your status _has_ changed. More to the point, I am Queen which gives me certain powers.”

His eyes widened. “You're not suggesting what I _think_ you're suggesting?”

“Of course. You need to build a dynasty, as I said, and so the Snow name is highly inappropriate for a king or a warden _or_ my heir.”

“No. I'm yours. I don't care about anything else I just ...”

“But don't you see … _that's_ the problem. We can't just make these decisions selfishly any more. We have to think of the realm and of the future.”

He shook his head and took both her hands in his. “As you said, we have two battles to fight and survive first. I'm willing enough to grab whatever happiness I can find wherever I can find it.”

She just stared at him, mulling over their conversation and feeling that odd pull again, something about Jon calling to her, tempting her.

“Well, the exact nature of our alliance may need further discussion but the other matter is easily solved, as I said. I'll talk to Tyrion tomorrow about the formalities but, as soon as possible, I'll legitimise you and then you'll be Jon Stark and that should help our cause whichever way we decide to take this.”

“I … I can't accept that.”

“You can and you will.”

She lifted her chin, turning away from his gaze again. Trying to find the courage to order him out.

“Please, Dany. Please let me stay.” She hadn't said a thing but, he knew. He _always_ knew. And he was beginning to understand that he was her one weakness. That now he only had to turn her head with his fingertips and allow her gaze to drown in his to have her completely at his mercy. “ _Please_ let us not talk of this now. Winter is here and the Great War follows close on its heels but, for now, let it just be just the two of us together. The Last Dragon and the White Wolf sheltering from the threatening storm.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly angsty chapter for you here but I wanted to include a few of my head-canons, especially in regard to Tyrion's reaction on the show. There will definitely be a chapter 4 and, after that, I'll just see how it goes.
> 
> Thank you all for your support on my first ever GOT fanfiction. It's very much appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

“Please, Dany.”

Jon was scared in a way he couldn't ever remember being before. This was not the fear he'd felt in battle, nor the cold terror of seeing the Night King for the first time. Those emotions had been tempered with the calm before the storm or the anger in his heart, but this? The threat of her sending him away and never again being able to touch her or kiss her? That thought terrified him and, for a moment, he genuinely struggled to find any air to breathe.

Daenerys was deliberately not looking at him and he knew why. Knew that she was also aware of this strange connection they shared which seemed to solidify the moment their eyes locked. So Jon gently turned her head to face him and felt air fill his lungs as he realised, with relief, just how little effort it had required to persuade her to look. She needed this too and he saw the fear melt from her eyes at the same moment as the knot released from deep inside of him.

He couldn't explain the feeling and didn't even want to try.

_'I am hers and she is mine.'_

Perhaps it was as simple as that.

~o~0~o~

He awoke to the darkness and the now familiar sway of the ship, with Daenerys huddled against his side with a corner of the bedclothes pulled over her in a poor attempt to keep warm. Jon leant over to kiss his queen on the head and dragged the cover fully over them, hoping she would allow him to stay with her for the rest of the night. She moved, still half asleep, happily wriggling herself properly under the furs and Jon pulled her close, too cold and tired to even think about undressing.

He slept pretty well considering; half waking when she would lightly kiss his neck or move gently against him. In return he'd stroke her hair or lean down to plant a chaste kiss in her lips but they were both were exhausted for one reason or another and even Jon's almost constant desire for his queen was no match for the tempting pull of sleep.

Dawn was occurring later and later with each passing day and soon the sun would be a distant memory as winter truly hit, but Jon's instincts were finely honed and he knew when he next woke that the day was about to start and that he'd rather not be here when the queen's handmaiden came to attend her. He kissed Daenerys lightly on the forehead and mumbled a quiet 'I love you' before walking slowly and quietly out of her cabin.

~o~0~o~

Small council meetings were to be held every day, although Jon honestly couldn't see the point. You couldn't receive ravens on a moving boat which meant no new news until they reached White Harbor and, honestly, what could they talk about now that they hadn't discussed a hundred times already? They would arrive at the port, collect provisions, march west to the King's Road and there meet up with the rest of the army. Daenerys no longer looked at him during these meetings - not properly - and in many ways he was grateful for it. There was something about her gaze which drew him to her and he knew that one glance would render them both tongue-tied idiots, staring longingly at each other across the table. He looked down at his boots to hide a smirk at the highly inappropriate thought that entered his mind at that moment.

He missed her already. He missed her even now whilst they were in the same room, talking about some strategy or another which had already been discussed to death. Was this what love felt like to everyone? Jon wondered, and would the distraction of it become a problem? He thought of King Robert and his love for his aunt Lyanna and then about Lyanna and Rhaegar and shuddered as a strange, odd sensation, crept over him; something like the feeling that had grabbed at him when they had found the Direwolf pups; something deep and mysterious and … personal.

“You seem troubled, your … ah, Jon,” Davos said as the pair left the meeting. He'd insisted the man call him by name when they were alone but was beginning to suspect he would have preferred not to have the honour.

Jon shrugged. “Just frustrated. Nothing to do but wait and worry.”

“True enough,” Davos continued, “but you should try to sleep and rest as much as you can while you can. You know you'll be craving both before long.”

Jon gave a deep sigh. “Aye.”

“You're still worried about what your lords will say about your alliances? About Daenerys?”

“Yes. We know how they feel about Targaryens and southern rulers and they will have even less time than I did to get to know her.”

Davos chucked quietly. “She'll make an impression, at least.”

Jon looked up at him, surprised at his humour. “Which is not necessarily a good thing?”

“My apologies. You're worried for her safety, I think. Wondering if perhaps she _should_ have ridden on her dragon?”

Jon shook his head. “No, it was the right decision tactically and I stand by it but, yes, I worry about her for … for all sorts of reasons.”

Davos' voice was exceptionally gentle. “Yes, lad … I know.”

The days on-board ship always dragged and Jon missed her - craved her - in a way he'd never experienced before. He would stand by their unspoken agreement though and give her space tonight, despite that time apart potentially allowing her to think more about ending their relationship. Kings, Queens, Lords, Bastards. Family and Houses and names and … the future. Everything seemed to remind him of those things nowadays; the idea of a wife and children and home constantly in his head, mocking his status and their strange circumstances. Daenerys may have talked about making him a Stark but that meant absolutely nothing if he couldn't have her.

He laughed bitterly at the irony. Now, when there was absolutely no reason to refused the honour she was offering him, Jon had finally stopped caring about being a bastard.

He went to bed early that night, keen to let sleep take him and allow his brain to rest. Hopefully he would sleep deeply although he would be surprised if he didn't dream of Daenerys tonight, especially as he urgently needed to release some tension before he slept. In the end he was able to come quickly and easily with so many beautiful memories of his queen to call upon, even if his release did bring him close to tears. “I love you. I miss you,” he mumbled as sleep quickly took him.

The dream when it arrived was soft and warm; her lips on his face, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on his bare chest. “Dany,” he gasped as her lips travelled lower to his neck, nuzzling there whilst he shuddered in delight at the sensation.

“Gods, you taste so good.”

Jon opened his eyes abruptly, turning to see a candle burning on the side table and its soft light turning her pale hair gold. “Dany?”

She chuckled. “You were expected someone else?”

“I … I thought for a moment I was dreaming. I thought that, after last night, you would stay away.”

“So did I,” she replied with a heavy sigh, “but, in the end, I just couldn't seem to manage it.”

“Good.” He pulled her closer. “As I said yesterday, the near future is so uncertain that I don't think we should even be trying to plan for anything past it. Let's just take what enjoyment we can, while we can.” Jon started to move then, keen to kiss her and strip her of the nightdress, but she shook her head.

“No, I neglected you last night and so now it's _your_ turn.” A sly smile crossed her lips. “On your back, my Wolf, and don't you _dare_ try to return the favour.”

“Is that an order?” he asked.

“Does it need to be?” She smirked. “I fully intend to kiss every little bit of you until you beg for mercy.”

“I don't beg.”

“Ah, a challenge. That's good.”

“Gods, Dany!”

She laughed lightly, sitting up on her knees, pulling back the furs and licking her lips as she admired his naked body. “Hmm, I see what you mean about not being relaxed around me.” He hadn't been joking. It rarely took him long now and the almost constant physical frustration simply added to all the other types of frustration he felt during the day.

He was desperate to kiss her but she shook her head as he started to move, a firm hand on his chest. “Lie still,” she ordered and then her gaze flicked left and right and a wicked look appeared on her face. “Put your wrists in those metal loops so you don't get tempted to touch me.”

It took him a moment to understand and he then couldn't help but laugh at her implication. “They're to stop you falling out of bed in a storm.”

She was smiling too, apparently delighted about something. “I know, but that doesn't mean to say we can't make use of them for other things. Now, lie still, I've got work to do.”

He disobeyed instantly sitting up to kiss her and she allowed it for a moment, before pulling abruptly away. “Dany ...” Not touching her always felt so wrong.

“Ssh!” She placed a finger on his lips before moving her hands up to his head, untying his hair and allowing the dark curls to fall around his face. The shocked expression on her face was a surprise. “Oh ...”

“What?”

“Why do you tie it up?”

“For much the same reason as you do, I imagine. Practicality.”

“Yes, but ...” She ran her fingers through his hair, smiling. “You look so much younger, so …” He belatedly interpreted the expression on her face - the hunger in her eyes - and tried hard not to laugh. It looked like he wouldn't be tying his hair up in her company from now on. Not if _this_ was the sort of reaction he got from her.

“Perhaps I wear it like that so as not to distract all the girls?”

“Good point,” she replied, still running her fingers through the curls. “Certainly I would struggle to resist you in front of everyone if you looked like this all the time.” He moved forwards, hands on her face but she pushed him away, glaring. “I gave you an order, Snow.”

He stared at her and she stared back, the smallest sparkle in her eyes the only real indication that she was teasing him. Trying hard to keep his own expression neutral, Jon turned to view the metal hoops on the bed and lay down, placing a hand in each.

“Yes, my queen,” he said, his gaze never once leaving her. “I live to obey you.”

He saw her breath catch and couldn't stop himself from smirking, loving the reaction his obedience caused. Then she leant forwards kissing his forehead, his cheeks and then his nose before paying particular attention to the area around his eyes, fingering the scar that decorated his left, a silent question on her lips.

“A warged eagle,” he replied.

“What?”

Jon shook his head. “Never mind. It'll take far too long to describe all my scars and some ...” He swallowed. “I'd rather not talk about.”

Her fingers found the one above his heart. “I understand, but perhaps one day?”

He nodded. “One day.”

She returned to his face, nuzzling her own in his dark curls and nibbling at his ear before gently blowing in it, laughing when she heard him gasp. Then she moved her lips slowly lower until they settled on his neck; first kissing and then gently sucking at the soft skin around his pulse point.

“You'll leave a mark,” he complained.

“Good. I would happily brand you as my own.”

His voice cracked as she continued to nibble and suckle at his neck and collarbone. “I thought you were against slavery?”

“Yes … but this is different this is ...”

“Yes?”

“I am his ...” She sucked at his neck again. “… and he is mine.”

“Dany!” He started to sit up, turned on by the words and their implication and now desperate to make love to her.

“Stay.” It was a gasp rather than a command, her breathing now as heavy as his own, but he still did as she bid, revelling in the delicious torture as she explored every part of his body with her lips, teeth and tongue; slowly, slowly travelling further down, kissing suckling and even gently biting whilst Jon wriggled and gasped out her name over and over again.

She kissed every scar and each muscle on his chest and abdomen, before travelling back up to his shoulders and down each arm, even giving each finger its own special attention. Then it was back to his torso before moving lower, slowly … slowly …. her hands now holding Jon firmly as he squirmed and groaned beneath her.

She had reached his hips and Jon's breath caught as he wondered if she really did intend to kiss him everywhere, but it seemed obvious that she wasn't ready to stop her teasing game quite yet, continuing her journey down each leg towards his feet and discovering, to her delight and his annoyance that he was particularly ticklish there.

“I've been desperate to see you laugh properly,” she confessed, moving back up to tickle at his ribs. “And now that I have, I've decided that I never want to see you frown again.” And then, with absolutely no warning she ducked her head and took his full length into her mouth, both hands firmly on his hips to stop him from moving.

Jon started to call her name but it turned into a muffled growl as she relentlessly moved her lips up and down and used her tongue to lick and tease.

“Stop …” He gasped after a little while. “I'm going to ...”

“Good,” she said, returning to swallow him again and Jon saw stars, quite unable to stop from calling her name as the pleasure rolled over him.

A dragon roared but Jon hardly heard it, breathing heavily and grinning like an idiot at what Daenerys had just done to him. He opened his eyes and removed one hand from its restraint, reaching out for his love and wanting nothing more than to kiss her, but she was now sitting up, her eyes wide in shock.

“What is it?” sitting up too, a concerned hand on her shoulder. “What's the matter?”

“That was Rhaegal.”

“Just one?” He didn't understand what was confusing her so much.

“Yes and last night, when you were … seducing me, it was only Drogon.”

“What are you saying?”

She shook her head. “Why is Rhaegal reacting to you? You've not even interacted with him, have you?”

“No. Just Drogon.”

“And have the Starks got any Targaryen in their blood?”

“I don't think so ...” He frowned. “It'd be pretty distant if so.”

“Perhaps your mother then?”

He shrugged. “I was born somewhere in the south, but that's all I know. Why do you ask?”

“I never could understand why Drogon took to you so easily and yet a dragon can only bond with one rider and I can only fully bond with one dragon.” She frowned. “If Rhaegal could accept you then perhaps …?”

“What?”

“Having a rider on his back when we go after the Night King … that would be so much safer for him.”

“Ah ...” Jon felt a sudden, rare fear. “Safer for _him_ , perhaps, but I'd rather do my fighting on the ground with Longclaw in my hand.”

“I understand, but perhaps it would still be worth a try once we make land?”

He shook his head. “If I thought you arriving at Winterfell on a dragon was a bad idea, I certainly wouldn't recommend the two of us turning up on two dragons.”

She laughed. “No, I wasn't suggesting that, but the one thing dragon back _is_ good for is speed. If we needed to get you somewhere quickly …?”

“Well, I admit to having a fascination for your dragons from the first moment I saw them …” Jon smirked. “In fact, I seem to have a fascination for _all_ beautiful dragons. Can't seem to resist them.” And he moved forwards to kiss her once more.

“You were right before, of course,” she said, gently pulling away. “I still feel that I may have to let you go eventually and-”

“No.” He said it firmly but calmly. A rare order. He placed a hand on each side of her face, turning her towards him so their eyes locked, willing her to understand.

“It would be for the-”

“No.” He wasn't sure exactly what this was - this connection they seemed to share - he only knew there was something powerful which seemed to shift deep inside both of them when they looked into each other's eyes. A key in a lock. A feeling of home. “I am yours and you are mine. Remember?”

“Jon ...” she breathed.

“Do you understand?” he asked and she finally, weakly nodded, her eyes still fixed on his, her pupils now dark and wide.

“Yes, and it's too late now, anyway. I don't think it's possible for me to stay away from you for any length of time and so … it'll be as you say. We'll just take it one day …” There was a hint of a smile on her lips. “... and one night at a time.”

“Good.”

“And you'll meet Rhaegal properly when we get to White Harbor? See if you and he can bond?”

“If that's what you want, although I'm still not certain about riding him.”

“I understand but ...” This time there was nothing subtle about the look she gave him. “We've still got a while before we arrive and, in the mean time, you have _this_ dragon to ride and I suggest you practice just as often as you can.”

Finally the tension was broken and Jon laughed loudly as he moved forward to claim her lips again. “An order I am only too happy to obey, my queen.”

~o~0~o~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. Back to work and generally a bit distracted but ... here you go, hope that makes up for the ending of the last chapter.
> 
> I do plan to continue this story, although I've not fully settled on a final direction. I think S8 is likely to go one of two ways and yet I'm not going to deliberately try to predict the show here. The issue is the timing of the wall falling. Did that really happen immediately after the boat scene? I don't think so. My current thought is that we'll see it fall again at the start of the show, then cut to Bran watching it and then have someone tell him that Jon is arriving at Winterfell NOW. However, there is one other direction the show might take and I think I'll be going with that for this story, especially considering the dragon plot I've got going here.
> 
> So, there may be a little gap before I get the next chapter(s) out but at least I'm not leaving you on a cliff hanger.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something shocking has happened. This little piece of sexy Jonerys has suddenly acquired ... A PLOT!
> 
> So, strap yourselves in as we take off on a slightly unusual S8 journey.

“We're due at White Harbor tomorrow morning,” Daenerys said at the end of the usual, short meeting in the largest communal cabin, “which means we should finally receive some up-to-date news. However, unless anything urgent comes up, we will keep to our current plan and immediately head north-west to the kingsroad, with perhaps a meeting that first evening when we make camp? Agreed?”

She savoured the nods and smiles in front of her, knowing that future meetings would not be so amicable. As everyone departed she turned a knowing look with Jon - a silent invitation to meet back in her cabin - but Tyrion blocked his exit as he made to leave.

“A word, if I may,” her Hand said.

Jon looked between them both. “You wish me to stay?”

“Yes,” Tryion confirmed, “it's you two I want to talk with.”

Daenerys raised an eyebrow, “About what?”

“ _About_ you two, as it happens and your … relationship.”

Jon looked at his feet and winced, but Dany felt more anger than embarrassment at her Hand's comment. “As I have said before, any time I chose to spend with Lord Snow is none of your business.”

“If that time was spent discussing tactical matters then I might agree. I would also not be concerned if you were simply … enjoying each other's company to pass the time, but I think we all know that it's rather more significant than that.”

Jon appeared shocked at the suggestion. “You would actually prefer it to be some casual thing?”

“Yes,” Tryion replied. “Yes I would and I'd hardly blame either of you for such a thing but, as I discovered to my cost, love and politics do not mix and I worry for both of you and for the realm when so much depends on our queen's survival.”

“So good of you to worry,” Daenerys replied, sarcastically, “and I'm sorry you were hurt in the past but, in this case, there _is_ no conflict of interest. You yourself said I should be looking for a marriage alliance here in Westeros and who better than Jon for that?”

Tyrion covered his surprise at her confident reply well, with only a small frown as he considered her words. “You were the one who wished to postpone that sort of talk until after you had the throne.”

“That conversation was about the succession,” she countered, “and it took place before I'd agreed to focus my attention on the Night King. Right now I need the full support of the north and such a union will only help with that.”

“And this is also why you wish to make Jon a Stark?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Honestly, his parentage has never concerned me but, if it helps then, why not? “ She frowned slightly, looking over at Jon. “Assuming it's still something he feels strongly about?”

He merely shrugged. Despite it having been a long held wish of his and despite no good reason to refuse the honour now, he was still finding it a difficult thing to come to terms with.

“Couldn't we deal with all of that tomorrow?” she continued. “I know we're on a tight schedule, but surely there's time enough to visit the Sept before we leave.”

“What?” Jon looked shocked. They had already discussed the idea of marriage but, up until now, it had been some abstract, future thing.

“I'm really not sure there _would_ be time,” Tyrion said.

“Wouldn't it help your people accept me as their queen if I was also your wife by the time we arrived?” she asked Jon

“Perhaps but ...” He frowned, considering. “You know I would marry you with or without the need for an alliance, but The Seven are not my gods, White Habor's Godswood is in a sorry state and I would much rather we exchange vows under the Heart Tree at Winterfell.”

She smiled. “As you wish.”

“Look, I see you two have already made your mind up about this,” Tyrion said, “and yes, I do see the logic of your argument in a way, but I believe you would do better to wait until we take stock of the northern feeling on this alliance of yours first. It would also help if you could both be a little more subtle about your feelings for each other in the mean time? Limit the sneaking around and bed hopping you've been getting up to recently, for example?”

Dany simply nodded her head at this, hoping that her Hand would take the hint and stop pushing the issue. Jon had gone back to staring at his boots.

“Well, that was a bit awkward,” he said once Tyrion had left.

“I still don't fully understand his concern,” she said, “although it's not as if we haven't discussed many of the same points ourselves.”

“True.” Jon's lips turned up very slightly. “Not sure about keeping my distance from you though. It seems such an easy thing to say, but the moment I'm away from you I miss you and when I _am_ in your company it always hurts if I'm not touching you.”

She smiled, still surprised by how subtly romantic Jon could be sometimes. “Perhaps we should sleep in our own cabins tonight. It'll be an early start tomorrow and we shouldn't risk oversleeping or … getting distracted.”

“Yes, I know … that would make sense.” But he had already moved closer and she instinctively took a step forwards too.

“Or you could come back with me this afternoon and then … we'd be tired enough to sleep alone?” she suggested, tentatively.

“That's not worked so far, has it?” He closed the gap between them, placing a hand on her cheek, a soft smile now on his lips. “The problem is that I just can't seem to sleep without you by my side and yet we get so little sleep when we _are_ together.”

“I know.” She reached up and kissed him, gently at first but slowly growing bolder, her hand quickly finding its way under his shirt.

“Dany … it's not exactly private in here.”

“Don't really care.” She fumbled at the ties on his trousers, pulling them quickly down below his hips and manoeuvring him towards a chair. “Sit,” she ordered as she started to lift her skirts.

“Gods, if someone comes in.”

She smirked, moving closer and straddling him where he sat and allowing her skirt to fall over his lap. “There, we're both well covered now,” she declared as she sunk herself down onto him. “Oh! It always feels _so_ good to have you inside me.”

He groaned loudly, one of his hands rested on the small of her back whilst the other found its way between her legs. Not that she needed any help in that regard. When in Jon's company it felt as if she was constantly on the edge of climaxing and each time appeared to need less and less foreplay to tip her over the edge.

“Where are the dragons?” he gasped as they both drew close.

“Don't know … don't care,” she replied, riding him even harder.

~o~0~o~

“So much for our promise to sleep apart,” Jon said later as they both lay in her bed a few hours before dawn. They'd made their way here shortly after their session in the larger cabin and neither of them had felt inclined to leave since.

She smiled at him, leaning up for a kiss. “It wouldn't be such a problem if you weren't so irresistible.”

“Me? This is definitely all your fault.”

She hit him on the arm. “Up, Snow … Stark - whatever you are - we've a busy day ahead.”

Little did she know how prophetic both parts of her sentence would turn out to be.

~o~0~o~

“At least we're not late,” Jon said an hour later, as they stood next to each other at the railings watching White Harbor approach through the weak haze of a dawn which now tended to last until dusk.

Daenerys yawned, allowing her fingers to touch his as usual. “Hopefully the lack of sleep will help us to keep our distance tonight.”

“Because that's worked _really_ well so far,” he retorted.

She laughed. “Perhaps Tyrion was right then. We do need to be alert.”

“True but, as I said, I don't sleep well when I'm apart from you anyway.”

She frowned as looked through the mist around the rapidly approaching harbour walls and tried to make out some hazy details. “I think we have a welcoming party?”

Jon leaned forwards slightly. “Three … four people and a cart? I wonder who they are? We really don't have time to accept any hospitality.”

Tryion and Davos left the ship first, heading off to collect any raven messages which may have arrived, whilst the rest of the party headed down a little more sedately. Jon offered Dany his arm as they disembarked and she felt no urgent need to let go once their feet touched the dock. Waiting for them was a party of four; two young men - one large, one small - and, a little further back in front of a wagon, a woman holding the hand of a small child.

“That's Sam!” Jon gasped. “What's he doing here?”

“Who?”

“A very good friend of mine.” He let go of her arm, moving quickly forwards to embrace the large man who now had a huge smile on his face.

“Jon, I hardly recognised you wearing your hair like that.” Sam pulled back, his face breaking into a large smile. “It's been so long, hasn't it?”

“You've not changed at all,” he replied as he glanced over at Sam's slight companion. Dany had hung back a little but saw her lover's shoulders suddenly stiffen in shock. “It … it can't be,” he gasped.

“Hello Jon.” The voice confirmed what Dany had started to suspect now she had moved closer. The short figure dressed in trousers and armed with a slim sword was actually a young woman.

“Arya? Is it really you?”

The girl threw herself into his arms in lieu of a reply and he swung her around enthusiastically, laughing. Dany grinned as she recognised the name of Jon's beloved little sister, attempting to catch Sam's eye, but the large man turned a bright shade of pink and looked down at his boots.

“You still have Needle,” Jon was saying to Arya.

“And she can use it,” Sam added. “In fact, she insisted on travelling here with us as a bodyguard.”

Jon started to laugh at the joke but halted abruptly as he saw the two serious expressions in front of him.

“If you doubt it, Brother, I would be happy to demonstrate.” Arya's eyes flicked to Longclaw. “And I hear you have gained some extra skills too. It would be fun to spar with you, I think.”

He shook his head, frowning. “What happened to you?”

“A lot.” She looked up at Dany then. “Aren't you forgetting your manners?”

“Oh yes, of course. Sam, Arya, I have the honour of introducing Queen Daenerys of the House Targaryen.” He turned to flash her a bright smile. “I would attempt to list all her other titles but we are on a bit of a tight schedule here.”

Arya bowed along with Sam. “An honour indeed,” the girl said, her eyes wide. “The Targaryen queens and princesses were always my heroines when I was growing up.” Her smile turned briefly wicked. “Jon's too, in fact.”

“Really?” she replied, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Who didn't grow up in awe of your ancestors' accomplishments?” he countered.

“And we saw your dragons,” Arya continued. “Well, from a distance. Hopefully I can get a closer look before we leave?”

Daenerys smiled at her. “Perhaps not _too_ close.”

“I-it is a real honour to meet you, your Grace,” Sam said. “And I know Jon and Arya will have a lot to catch up on but … but I'm afraid I'm here with an urgent message for Jon and well, for _both_ of you really and so ...”

“What is it, Sam?” Jon asked, kindly.

“Bran asked me to pass on some news. He has visions as you may know and has come across some important information which I've been able to back up with documents from the Citadel and ...” He took a deep breath. “Jon, it's about your parentage and so … I'm not sure if you'd rather we talk alone first?”

“You know who my mother is?” Jon's voice cracked and Dany saw both fear and excitement on his face as his friend nodded nervously. She moved closer instinctively, seriously debating taking his hand, despite their earlier promise.

“Your Grace.” Missandei was suddenly by her side. “Lord Tryion and Ser Davos are on the way back with the messages and will be keen for us to head towards the kingsroad just as soon as possible.”

Sam shook his head. “You need to have this information before we leave here.”

Jon turned to his sister. “Arya?”

“Don't ask me,” the girl replied with a shrug. “Neither Bran nor Sam would tell me anything. They said you had to be the first to know.”

“Come back to the cart,” Sam suggested. “I'll tell you there and then you can decide what to do with the information I'm about to give you. Queen Daenerys needs to know some of this too, but, well ... it's up to you.”

Jon's brows lowered, a now familiar sight to Dany, as he wrestled with the dilemma and she had to resist the temptation to banish the frown by reaching her hand out to him as she often did. He raised his head as the others from the boat party approached, the annoying frown still present. “Did you receive any messages which might alter our plans?” he asked.

“No,” Tryion said. “If anything it confirms that we need to head to Winterfell with all due haste.”

“Then continue to get ready to move out,” he said in his rarely used commanding voice. “We'll be right behind you.”

“But ...”

“This news is important, apparently and so ...” Jon briefly paused. “… I'll hear all of it with Daenerys and Arya present. Our plans have been discussed to death already, so our advisors hardly need us to oversee matters.”

Gods she loved it when he was assertive like this.

Missandei followed them to the cart and Sam quickly introduced the woman and child as Gilly and Little Sam, before inviting Arya, Daenerys and Jon to climb up into the cart. There were two benches there for driver and passengers but the four sat facing inwards so their knees were almost touching; Sam and Arya on one side, Jon and Dany on the other. Sam fidgeted, looking exceptionally nervous.

“Well?” Jon asked impatiently.

“First … the hardest bit for you to hear, I think ...” He winced. “Eddard Stark was not your father.”

“What? What are you on about? Of course he was.”

Arya's head had snapped around to stare at Sam and Daenerys shuffled very slightly closer to Jon, subtly trying to lend her support.

Sam shook his head. “H-he made a promise. To protect you.”

“Tell me.”

“You are not _his_ child. You're his sister Lyanna's.”

Arya gasped and turned her head back, her gaze darting quickly between Dany and Jon, but it took the queen a few more heartbeats to catch up and recall the name Lyanna as the catalyst for Robert's rebellion. Then she reeled in her seat as her mind finally took the next step.

“But, of course,” she mumbled as she recalled her dragons' reactions.

“What? I don't understand. Why would he …?” Jon hadn't worked it out but then he was still reeling from the first part of the news. He had worn the label of Ned Stark's bastard his whole life only to now be told that it had been a lie and, right now, that was all he was able to think about.

“Do you remember what happened to Lyanna?” Sam asked his friend gently. “Most believe she was taken by Rhaegar Targaryen against her will and that Ned went to Dorne to look for her.”

“Rhaegar?” Jon whispered the name so quietly she hardly heard it.

“ _Most_ believe?” Dany asked Sam.

“Bran and I have evidence that suggests a different version of events,” he replied, his attention still on Jon, “but, regardless, we now know for a fact that you _are_ the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen.”

Jon had turned white, his jaw clenching and his frown deepening. Daenerys gave up trying to resist and reached out to him, pleasantly surprised at how enthusiastically he grabbed at her hand. She could feel him trembling.

“Why would Father have everyone believe Jon was his?” Arya asked. “Why would he not even tell Mother?”

“To protect him from Robert,” Sam replied. “Back then he hadn't known his wife for long and even if he felt he _could_ trust her, it was imperative that everyone believed Jon was his and that Catelyn did not show him too much affection. A hard decision, to be sure, but Lyanna made him promise to tell no-one.”

“Robert wanted us dead,” Dany said, turning to Jon. “ _All_ the Targaryens. Lord Stark would have known that and, well, it's probably just as well that you ended up with your mother's colouring or the secret would definitely be out.”

Jon looked up at Sam with such a glower on his face that the young man shuffled back in his seat nervously. “What evidence do you have of this?” he demanded of his friend.

“Bran has seen your birth in the Tower of Dorne,” Sam replied. “He saw Eddard fighting the Targaryen Kingsguard who were guarding Lyanna outside, and then watched him head inside and promise to protect you and keep your parentage a secret. I have also found written evidence that you are neither a Stark bastard nor a Targaryen one, something which Bran has also confirmed via a vision.”

“What?” Daenerys asked him. “What are you saying?”

This time Sam did turn to her, although he seemed nervous about looking her in the eye. “Y-your eldest brother married Lyanna in a secret ceremony and named their child Aegon Targaryen.”

Her response to that came out as something between a manic laugh and a scoff. After all these years, all her declarations that she held the true claim to the throne, and then Jon her ... nephew … her lover ... came along and ...? She buried her face in her hands as she tried to come to terms with it all.

“My name is Jon Snow.” His voice was quiet but firm.

“I admit it's hard to think of you as anything other than Jon,” Sam said, “but, officially, you are a Targaryen with Stark blood via your mother. Either way, you are most definitely _not_ a Snow.”

There was a long pause before anyone spoke and Daenerys didn't move during it, her head still in her hands as she tried to come to terms with how this news effected her.

“Dany?” Jon asked, his voice quiet and unsure. She slowly lifted her head to look at him and was quite certain his sickly pallor matched her own.

“You're my eldest brother's child,” she said.

He frowned. “I see … that is ...” His gaze flicked nervously towards Sam and Arya. “That could make … things awkward?”

She shook her head. “No, you don't understand. That is not an issue, especially between Targaryens, but what _is_ awkward here is that your claim to the Iron Throne is greater than mine.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

Part of her wanted to hate him for this - despite knowing none of it was his fault - but how could she when he continued to be so adorably oblivious to … everything.

“In some ways the queen is correct,” Sam said, “although proving it to the Lords of Westeros beyond all doubt is likely to be impossible unless we can find further evidence. And blood right to the Iron Throne is all well and good, but such a claim needs to be secured and a Lannister currently sits upon the throne and is not going to simply give it up.”

“It's ridiculous,” Jon complained. “It's _all_ ridiculous. I don't want the thing for myself - you all know me well enough to understand that - and, anyway, I've already pledged myself to Daenerys and nothing was ever going to change that.”

“I'm very glad to hear it,” she replied, trying not to show how relieved she felt at his words. “Although we already have the ideal solution planned anyway.”

“Of course,” Arya said. “None of that will matter if you two marry.” Dany looked at her sharply, surprised by the guess. “Something Sansa said. Apparently some in Winterfell were already speculating about the exact nature of your alliance.”

“Ah,” Sam nodded, looking knowingly between the couple in front of him. “I did wonder. And the Sept of Balor allows marriages between aunt and nephew, of course, never mind the extra concessions they have allowed Targaryens in the past.” Jon groaned loudly.

“At least we now have an answer as to why you seem to have a bond with Rhaegal,” Dany said, squeezing his hand.

“A … bond ...” He looked briefly up at the other two and his cheeks coloured. Dany tried not to giggle at the reaction, this was hardly the time for jokes.

“Rhaegal?” Arya asked.

“I named two of my dragons for my brothers,” she replied.

“Ah yes,” Sam said. “That's why I came here to tell you this in person rather than wait until you arrived in Winterfell. Bran has another message for the two of you. There isn't time for you to travel the kingsroad. You both need to head directly north.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bran believed that you needed to know that Jon was a Targaryen before you could accept this but he was very clear in his instructions. He said that the two of you need to fly _both_ dragons towards Eastwatch immediately and see for yourself what's happening at the Wall.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like most people, I'm expecting S8 to start at Winterfell but my little dragon sub-plot suggested another direction - one which has the added advantage of staggering the re-introductions and keeping the focus on Jon and Dany.
> 
> As I said before, the gap between chapter 4 and 5 was inevitable whilst I figured out what I was going to do with this, but now I have the next several chapters mapped out and, as my Merlin readers know, I prefer staying well ahead in my fics so that I can guarantee once-a-week publishing. Hopefully I'm at that point now and you'll get a new chapter every weekend. This one feels odd though as my stories tend to be random one/two-shots or large, very well planned multi-chapters and this is currently a strange mixture of both. 
> 
> Thanks for your reviews so far and sorry I've been a bit quiet. I'll try to respond to your comments and questions more now I actually know where this is going!


	6. Chapter 6

"Eddard Stark was not your father."

The words cut deeper than the daggers at Castle Black and, for a moment, it was impossible for Jon to focus on anything else. He was vaguely aware of Daenerys edging closer to him on the wagon's bench and knew that he'd made the right choice to invite her along. She and Arya were giving him subtle strength during this and also asking the necessary questions whilst he processed what Sam was telling him and attempted to keep some hold on his sanity.

All these years it had been his _mother's_ identity he'd questioned, needing to know who she was, w _hat_ she was, and perhaps also discovering where that unknown part of his character originated from; the anger and … fire. Jon shook his head as he finally understood that it was not his mother who held the clue to that but his father. A prince. A warrior. A Targaryen.

He would have probably withdrawn even further into himself if Daenerys hadn't been there to take his hand at that point. In fact, it was only the obvious distress that she displayed which had brought Jon out of his own little world to ask after her. He was her brother's son. He was her nephew. He had a greater claim to the Iron Throne than she did?

Jon dismissed that last issue immediately. He had only reluctantly accepted the northern crown and certainly had no desire for the southern one. Not unless he was ruling alongside his queen.

Could that still happen? Would the revelation about their shared blood effect their romantic relationship? Numerous questions flew around in his head but Jon knew it would be a long time before he came to terms with everything he'd learnt today, and time was the one thing he currently did not have.

 _'You are a Greyjoy_ and _you're a Stark,'_ he had said to Theon back on Dragonstone and Jon replayed that statement in his mind now with his own variation. 'You are a Targaryen _and_ you're a Stark.' He wasn't sure if the comparison amused or horrified him.

The man he knew as his father was, in fact, his uncle, his brother and sisters were his cousins and his aunt was his mother. His grandfather had burned his other grandfather, the love of his life was his aunt and his actual father had been the crown prince.

And if all of that wasn't enough to deal with he was now going to attempt to ride a dragon.

“Come, Jon ...” Daenerys had taken his hand to lead him out of the cart and he followed numbly, only vaguely aware of the rest of the boat party waiting for them with numerous questions on their lips.

Unfortunately, the shock of the news had starting to sink in and everything around him now appeared hazy and distant, with Dany's small, warm hand currently the only thing able to keep him grounded. Somewhere in the distance she, Sam, and Arya were speaking for him, explaining that he had received some troubling, personal news and there was something which now urgently needed to be done.

“If you ever trusted me, trust me now,” the queen told Tyrion when her Hand had tried to push the issue. “You are obviously ready to move out and so do so. You have your orders and I promise that Lord Stark and I will catch up with you later. We should be back with you long before you meet up with the army.”

Jon frowned on hearing her call him Stark, but Sam had said he wasn't a Snow and Daenerys could hardly start calling him Lord Targaryen or ... King Aegon? He groaned loudly, instantly drawing everyone's attention back to him.

Sam went back to the cart with Gilly, ready to head off towards the kingsroad with the others, whilst Arya asked to come with them briefly so she could see the dragons close up. She would also be able to quickly catch up with the others once … _if_ they were able to fly off. Jon still had his doubts about that but Dany seemed surprisingly confident.

“I know being a Targaryen is no guarantee of a dragon bond,” she said as the three of them walked towards the large field where her two children dosed, “but Drogon accepted you easily before and you already have a connection with Rhaegal so I'm certain it won't be a problem.”

“I expect Bran's already seen you riding him anyway,” Arya agreed. “I admit to not fully understanding the gifts our brother's acquired but there's no doubt he has extraordinary knowledge about all sorts of things.”

 _Brother?_ For a moment his step faltered as he began to understand just how much of his life he would have to re-evaluate now and how every casual conversation about his family would require him to readjust his thinking on a regular basis.

“Jon?” Dany asked then, turning to him with a look of concern on her face when he still hadn't said anything.

He nodded slowly. “I'm getting there. I'm trying to put it all to one side but … It's not easy.”

“Of course it isn't,” she said kindly, “but I really don't want you attempting this if you're not fully focused.”

Jon nodded more confidently, looking over at the dragons and attempting to recall how it had felt when he had first met Drogon. Then there was that odd sensation he experienced whenever Rhaegal had touched his mind, especially that one time when he was certain he'd got inside the dragon's head as he had flown above the ship. That had made no sense before hearing Sam's news, of course, but Jon now recalled experiencing a similar sensation with Ghost a few times. Was that a Stark or a Targaryen thing he wondered, before wincing again, trying to regain control of his chaotic emotions.

“They're beautiful!” Arya exclaimed as they drew closer to the two dozing dragons.

“See,” Dany said, throwing a teasing smile Jon's way and he thought perhaps he'd succeeded in returning it. “Are you sure you're ready to try this?”

Jon nodded again but turned around to face Arya first. “I'm sorry that we can't talk more right now,” he said. “There's so much we need to discuss after that conversation, never-mind all the other news we need to share about what we've both been through, but ...”

“You'll catch up with us soon enough,” Arya said, moving closer to clutch at his arm, “and I'm sure there'll be time on the journey north to talk, even if we all do have numerous other things to deal with.” She pulled at him slightly, preventing him from following Dany, before lowering her voice slightly. “You are still my brother, Jon. You always will be. You know that, right?”

He nodded, lowering his head a little so she couldn't see the tears forming in his eyes. “I may not know exactly what you've been through,” he mumbled, “but I am proud of what I've seen so far.”

Arya threw her arms around him in the way she had when they were back in Winterfell, pressing her face against his cheek. “She's lovely,” she whispered into his ear. “And I can't blame either of you for being smitten with the other.”

He pulled away from her with a frown. “What are you on about?”

She rolled her eyes. “Another skill I've picked up on my travels but, honestly, even the least observant person could see how you two feel about each other. Don't let this revelation change anything, will you, Jon? Your Stark half belongs at Winterfell but your Targaryen half belongs with her.”

And she spun away from him before he could think of a reply, running back towards the road so gracefully that he thought for a moment she would take off and fly herself.

“I see now why you two were so close as children,” Dany said as he caught her up. “And she obviously adores you which gives us something in common.”

“She likes you too.”

“She's mostly in awe of the dragons, I think.”

Jon knew it was more than that but simply nodded ahead. “Talking of which ...”

“Yes.”

Drogon and Rhaegal were still asleep as they approached - or were perhaps pretending to be - their heads almost touching and their eyes closed. As Dany moved towards Drogon, Jon tried to muster up the courage he'd discovered when the larger beast had first approached him, moving slowly towards Rhaegal's muzzle until he opened a lazy eye and regarded him curiously.

The larger dragon had also opened his eyes, remaining still for a heartbeat before apparently reading something of his mother's intent and slowly rising to his feet so he could offer a wing for her to climb. Jon took note of her route up, swallowed hard, removed his glove and raised a cautious hand towards the green dragon.

Rhaegal's nostrils flared as he regarded Jon but he made no sudden move, simply turning his head slightly to see what his brother was up to before glancing back. Jon felt as if he could see the through processes being mapped out in the beast's head and wondered just how alike their personalities might be. Drogon certainly matched his mother for fire and fury and, if Rhaegal was like him, he would be a little more measured initially, although certain not without his own style of rage.

Jon took a small step forward, hand still raised, determined to copy the cautious moves he'd used on Drogon, made easier here by having the smaller dragon lying down. He had prepared himself for a long wait, but had perhaps not appreciated the bond they already shared because, before he knew what was happening, Rhaegal had moved lightening fast, turning a wing towards Jon so quickly that he almost knocked him over.

Jon glanced up at Dany, now sitting securely on Drogon's back, but she was simply watching and he was unable to guess at her thoughts. Then Rhaegal nudged him again, snorting impatiently, and he was left with no doubt that the dragon was frustrated by his new rider's slowness. Assuming that he had already been accepted, and trying not to think about what would happen if he'd misinterpreted things, Jon took a deep breath and took the offered first step onto Rhaegal's wing before continuing to climb up his enormous back.

“That's good,” Daenerys shouted over. “Drogon was quite a bit smaller than that when I first flew him. Copy my position, Jon. That's no horse you're riding.”

Rhaegal snorted again, apparently offended at the suggestion and Jon glanced over at the queen, subtly adjusting the way he positioned his slightly larger frame on a considerably smaller dragon.

“What now?” he shouted, but he'd barely got the second word out before Rhaegal started to move and all he could do was lay low on the beast's back as the vast muscles began to flex, knowing what was coming and wishing he was more prepared for it. Would the dragon understand him? He was sure Dany had said something about giving instructions in Valyrian but there was definitely no time for a language lesson right now.

“Steady!” he shouted, thinking the word in his mind at the same time and hoping the dragon could read his intent in the same way that Ghost did. “I get that you're excited, but I can't ride you if I'm in pieces on the ground.”

Jon had no way of knowing if his plea had been understood or heeded and wouldn't know the difference between a gentle and rapid ascent anyway. All he could do was clutch at a couple of scales with his hands, grip with his thighs and fight against the urge to scream. His mount jerked and pitched with each powerful beat of wings and the air rushed past in a way it never did on a horse and, as he looked down, Jon was quickly reminded of the time he'd climbed the Wall, now grateful for that experience and desperately trying to lift and turn his head to see where Drogon was.

The larger dragon was close, flying slightly lower so that the first thing Jon saw was Daenerys level with him and smiling broadly. He wanted to talk to her or hear some reassuring words, but the wind took her name and Jon knew he'd not hear any reply she gave either. She remained close for some time though, looking relaxed, calm and regal, whilst Jon ground his teeth and wondered how much teasing she'd subject him to later on. So far they had simply circled White Harbor a few times, her gaze never leaving him whilst he got used to the sensation and began to relax a little. However, the moment he felt the worst of the terror leave and the smallest feeling of familiarity settle upon him, Drogon rose up and pulled away towards the north and Rhaegal followed with little warning, his fairly gentle bank causing Jon to yelp and drop his head back down against the scales once more.

“Bloody dragons,” he cursed and felt a rumble against his cheek, knowing without knowing how that Rhaegal was amused by his discomfort. “You really _are_ your mother's child, aren't you?” he grumbled. ' _And I'm more certain than ever that I'm more wolf than dragon.'_ He tried to keep that thought to himself though. Now was definitely _not_ the time to be upsetting his new friend.

~o~0~o~

It was the strangest journey Jon had ever undertaken. The ground below them blurred; greens lightly dusted with white, rapidly changing to white with small amounts of green. The increasing cold grounded him - the one sensation he could say felt familiar to him up here - but he kept looking over at Daenerys for reassurance, not because he was terrified any more, but rather because he desperately needed to feel some connection with her. More than anything else he wished he could hold her hand and gain comfort from that small, strong bond he always felt when he touched her. He shook his head as a strange whisper entered his mind at that point and he wondered if Rhaegal understood and was somehow trying to help them connect. How strong a bond did this smaller dragon have with his mother? He had no real answer to that but he did note how much more relaxed he felt once the sensation had passed.

So, for the rest of the journey, Jon talked quietly about Sam's news. He wasn't sure if he was talking to himself, Rhaegal or Dany but, as he had nothing better to do up here, he thought he might as well examine the revelations and see if he could start to come to terms with them. He certainly hadn't made peace with any of it by the time an ominously familiar grey cloud came into view, but could at least say that the information had been processed and packaged neatly away to be re-examined later.

Drogon moved closer and Daenerys waved her arms in a serious of moves which Jon instantly understood from the battlefield. He acted on instinct then, both pressing his knees against Rhaegal as he would on a horse and focusing his intentions towards his large head, pulling his mount back as both riders took full advantage of their excellent vision and attempted to make sense of the hazy view ahead.

'I can't even see the Wall,' Jon realised. 'That mist means White Walkers but … this far south?'

He looked over at Dany, knowing she couldn't hear him but hoping she might understand. Did this dragon connection work through all four of them? He took note of her hand movements, her expression and Drogon's movements.

'Slowly,' she indicated. 'We need to see what's happening without being seen.'

'Up?' he wondered and Rhaegal responded immediately, the ground quickly disappearing as they became encased in mist, and soon Drogon loomed alongside as they moved slowly north, occasionally dipping under the cloud and attempting to see ahead, whilst apprehension bubbled up around them. Hers? His? Theirs? It was no longer possible to tell.

'There!'

Jon followed Dany's hand and his heart dropped as he recognised the numerous, grey shapes far below, surrounded by their own personal mist. 'They're here. They're south,' he realised.

'How?'

A violent gust of wind, a horrifying cry and a streak of blue light directly below them helped answer that question and Jon dropped his head down onto the scales as Rhaegal banked sharply and flew even higher to ensure they weren't spotted.

'South! South!'

Again it was unclear who had given the command but that didn't seem to matter any more. The two dragons and their riders fled, looping high up into the icy grey clouds and streaking away from the horror they had seen. Jon should have been terrified by the sharp turns and excessive speed, but dragon riding was currently the least of his worries, along with any concerns about Stark or Targaryen relations. All he could think of now was that the Wall had fallen, the army of the dead were south of it and the Night King was riding a blue-eyed Viserion.

~o~0~o~

He could see nothing up here in the clouds but fortunately Rhaegal seemed to know where he was going. Jon again hunkered down and clung on for dear life until they broke free of the cloud and it was possible to see the ominous northern mist and regain his bearings. Had they been spotted? Would the Night King come after them? They didn't appear to have ended up much further south after that mad exit and so Jon started to scan the ground below in order to work out exactly where they were. The land up here was sparsely populated but, as much as he wanted to fly back south to the others, it made sense to continue to scout for a while and make sure that there was no-one living here who could be added to the already vast, dead army.

A movement from the east made him jump and he turned to see Drogon fly in at speed from the sea, belching flames. Jon watched, stunned, as the dragon set fire to a small wood and quickly urged Rhaegal to circle closer to see if he could work out what Daenerys was up to.

She first pointed north, then down to the burning wood and then made a circle with her arm and Jon laughed with delight at her initiative. Why he should be surprised at such brilliant tactics he had no idea. Hadn't he already enjoyed hearing the tales of all her adventures in Essos? Just as soon as he had worked out what she was doing, Rhaegal decided to join in, and Jon gasped at the strange sensation of his mount throwing flame onto the wood below. Dany then signalled again before headed south and, for the first time, Jon actively encouraged Rhaegal to bank in order to follow her, briefly wondering at how quickly he was adapting to this dragon riding.

The woodland they had just set ablaze would cause a temporary obstacle for the dead army, forcing the wights, at least, to skirt around it to the west. That would slow their progress towards the first major settlement they'd encounter - Last Hearth - and that was obviously the place that he and the queen now needed to fly to.

As they drew closer Jon saw the logical next step of the plan and wondered if Dany had already memorised the map before flying up here or had simply been improvising. A large forest stood directly north of Last Hearth and would burn long and hard, hopefully providing an effective temporary barrier.

'We're going to beat your bonfire, tenfold, Mance,' Jon crowed and then winced at his delight at the thought. Was his Targaryen side coming to the fore so quickly already?

They wouldn't burn it quite yet though, not until the knew who was living here, and not until the dead army got a little closer, and so the pair continued to circle and take note of the land below, before heading towards a smallholding on the forest's eastern edge, the activity quite obvious as they started to descend. The livestock there bellowed and whinnied as the dragons landed but there was no time for subtly here. Jon half-slid, half-fell off Rhaegal, before scrambling inelegantly towards Drogon to meet with Dany who was pale and shaking as she made her more cautious descent. She had pushed the shock briefly to one side in order to do what needed to be done, but he knew she was struggling with what she had seen and was there to catch her as her legs gave way. Realising his own strength was ebbing too, Jon lowered her gently to her knees and joined her on the ground, holding both her hands in his and pressing his forehead against hers. The two dragons then moved their great muzzles closer to their riders, making soft crooning noises as all four of them tried to come to terms with this latest shock.

“I'm here,” Jon told her. “ _We're_ here. We'll get through this. Somehow.”

“He died,” she mumbled, “and I thought nothing could be worse than that but then ...”

“Sshh.” He took her in his arms, rocking her and kissing the top of her head.

“And now I'm going to have to kill him all over again, aren't I?” she sobbed.

“He's already dead,” Jon said, not certain if his words would make her feel better or worse. “What we saw just now? That wasn't Viserion. That was just an extension of the Night King. Nothing more.”

“Easy to say. Not so easy to feel.”

“No.” He continued to rock her until her sobbing had eased a little. “That was a brilliant idea back there with that woodland. You plan to do the same with this forest?”

She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes and nodded. “It makes sense, I think? Hopefully it'll slow them down a bit, but we'll have to evacuate as many as we can as quickly as we can.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “Send them all to Winterfell and we can make our stand there. It'll be far easier to both defend and mount an attack from one place.”

“Yes.”

“Should we make a start to that now or fly back to the others?”

“I love that you're asking me,” she replied with a sad smile, “but I think you already know the answer.”

“Just wishful thinking on my part,” he agreed, “because I think we're both in desperate need of some quiet and rest.”

“But there's no time for that.”

“No, there's no time for that. Fortunately, I have a good relationship with the new Lord Umber so let's go and try to convince these people to start evacuating and then we'll pay a visit to Last Hearth.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your support on this and your lovely comments. It was interesting how some thought everyone took the news too well in the last chapter whilst others enjoyed a more measured response. This chapter might be a bit of a compromise as Jon's pov here shows more of what's really going on in his head, even though I'm certain he's not going to freak out like some believe. Mostly though, this new plot line meant he just doesn't have the time to brood excessively and, as often happens, will have to deal with it properly when/if things calm down.
> 
> I have so enjoyed looking at my Game of Thrones map and working out tactics for this and the next few chapters and I admit that's it's now made me especially curious about how the show's going to deal with it all.


	7. Chapter 7

Daenerys remembered little about their flight away from the Wall. 'South, south!' was the only coherent thought she could muster; a hollow chant, a desperate plea. They had to flee the horror of what they'd seen and what that would mean to the realm, and she had to flee from 'him'; from his cold, blue eyes and the scream of his icy breath.

She just wished she could flee from her own mind as easily.

There was no time to dwell on that nightmare but it would do no good to hide from it either. Dany was still not convinced she'd dealt with Viserion's death as it was, never mind all the other traumas she had experienced over the years. Was this how it had started for her father? One upset after another pushed to the side, buried behind masks and slowly eating away at him until he turned mad? Was that to be her fate now?

Jon had done the same thing this morning and she had seen it happen right in front of her. One moment he was pale and shaking - his eyes full of shock and confusion - and then, a couple of heartbeats later, a mask had dropped and he had turned determined eyes towards the two dozing dragons, his stress apparently forgotten. They both had so much they would need to address later but how long before the next disaster turned up to distract them? How many more traumas would they have to force into the depths of their minds to 'deal with later'?

But right now that was exactly what they _had_ to do if they were going to do their duty to their people. She and Drogon had emerged from the cloud to find themselves over the Shivering Sea and, whilst heading back to land, had spotted a fishing boat bobbing its way south, heavy with a fresh catch of fish. There were people eking out a living up here with no idea of the danger which was about to descend on them and so Daenerys dropped a bit lower, taking note of the land below, and trying to discover where the fishing village might be. She and Jon could not return south quite yet, she realised then, not when so many things needing to be done here first.

She couldn't even recall consciously thinking about using the small wood as a barrier, nor giving Drogon the order to set fire to the trees, and yet he seemed to read her intent before she'd fully made sense of it herself. The next moment Jon was there, swooping in on Rhaegal with a confidence which took her breath away, and then they were moving south, travelling as one, towards a large forest and the smallholding which lay next to it.

~o~0~o~

She and Jon had tried to convince the people living near the forest of the need to evacuate but they seemed so shocked about having two dragon riders land in their midst that it was obvious that they would get no immediate commitment from them. In the end they could only warn the group that their lord would require them to move out soon, before climbing back up and flying a little closer to Last Hearth.

Jon had originally been against the idea of arriving at the northern castles on dragon back but, honestly, what choice did they have right now? There was no time for long walks between holds, which meant that they had to land fairly close, and there was absolutely no chance that the arrival of two large dragons outside the castle walls would go unnoticed.

“At least we can use this as a test for Winterfell,” Jon said, as the two of them headed on foot towards the gatehouse. “Because I doubt we'll be able to make our planned, subtle entrance there now either.”

“Although bringing my large army right up to the gates might not be considered especially subtle?” she suggested.

“True, but at least we still do have my standing in the north in our favour.” He winced. “If you'll allow me a little flexibility in regards to my title?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, but the guards had already stepped forwards so he had no time to explain.

“The King in the North and Queen Daenerys Targaryen seek an audience with Lord Umber on a matter of the utmost urgency,” Jon said, the authority in his voice clear for all to hear.

After all his declarations of fealty, most of them exceptionally badly timed, his use of that title at this time surprised her but, in this case, it appeared he had made the right decision, the two guards bowing so deeply and so quickly that they almost fell over.

~o~0~o~

Lord Ned Umber was only a boy but he managed to show an authority beyond his years, even if his eyes did betray this youth a little when faced with two such high-ranking and unexpected guests. He was sitting at the high table in his Great Hall flanked by numerous advisors with the room full of curious knights, lords, ladies and servants.

“They say you arrived on a dragon, Your Grace,” Ned said to Jon. “It appears a lot has happened since I took leave of you at Winterfell.”

“That it has,” he replied and then sighed. “Lord Umber I apologise for our hasty visit and lack of courtesy here but the queen and I have flown from the north with grave news and we have very little time. The Wall has fallen at Eastwatch and the Army of the Dead are marching this way as we speak.” There were gasps from all around. “I'm afraid there is no choice but for all of you to leave here and head south for Winterfell immediately.”

“Leave?” one elderly man asked. “Impossible.”

“This is an order and not a request,” Jon replied with an authority which would have turned Dany on at any other time. “Any who remain here will die and be added to our enemy's numbers and I cannot allow that to happen.”

“You question our valour?” another person asked.

“No, I ask for that valour at Winterfell where it will be of some use. There we will have dragonglass weapons which can destroy our enemy along with a handful of Valyrian blades. Last Hearth and all its smallholdings _must_ be evacuated and, once emptied, the queen and I will then set fires to slow the wights' march and buy us precious time.”

Was it wrong for her to feel a shiver of excitement on hearing Jon talk about 'the queen and I' in that way? Would the people here get the wrong impression from his words? Or the right one?

It took considerably longer than they would have liked to make their point, although that first session did end with reassurances that an evacuation would begin the following morning, even if there were many lords who still felt it was their duty to stay and attempt to defend their home. Lord Umber offered his guests supper and a bed and the pair accepted, even though they had no intention of sleeping the whole night away. Neither did they have any intention of using both of the rooms they had been assigned. Daenerys knew her stoic façade was fading fast and that any remaining strength she had was about to leave her and so, as they were shown the larger 'king's room', Dany strolled in right behind Jon, explaining that she and the King in the North had things to discuss and that they would take refreshments here together.

“Daenerys?” Jon's voice sounded distant and the room had started to blur through a haze of tears. “Dany!” The next thing she knew she was in his arms, sobbing bitterly against his chest and, from the way he was trembling, it was obvious that he was now crying too.

~o~0~o~

“I think I probably needed that,” Jon said, his voice hoarse as he moved to the basin to wash his face. “Been years since I let go like that.”

“Yes,” Dany replied. “In our position we always have to work hard to not show weakness but … it does us no good to bottle it up in the long run.”

She couldn't even be bothered to wash, simply staggering over to the large bed and flopping down onto it with a groan. Jon brought over the tray of food which had been left and dropped it next to her, sitting on the other side of the bed and taking an enormous bite out of a hunk of bread.

“Gods, I'm starved.”

She watched him rip into it, amused. “Half wolf, half dragon and you eat just like them,” she mumbled, simply nibbling at her own piece of bread. “I think I'm hungry too but I'm just to weary to eat.”

“Rest then. Although we're going to need to head back out soon.”

“I know, but not before we can get some further reassurances from that little lord of yours. I really don't fancy trying to drop captured wights on every single village and castle in order to convince people of the danger they're in.”

He chuckled. “No, and we'll need to do quite a bit more scouting and convincing now, I think.”

“And yet, we'll need to return to our army fairly soon.”

He stopped mid bite, his eyes sparkling. “Oh, _our_ army now, is it?”

She shook her head, trying to fight a smile. “Perhaps it's just the exhaustion talking.”

Jon took a large bite out of a chicken leg. “You want to talk about … what we saw up there?”

“No!” she replied before wincing. “Sorry but … later and we need to talk about … your news at some point too.” She sighed. “ Finish your food, Jon and then just come and hold me. I'm not going to be able to sleep I don't think, not after the day we've had but-”

A firm knock on the door interrupted her and Jon reluctantly made his way over, groaning as his muscles protested the day's unfamiliar activity. Dany thought perhaps she should get up and look a little less like Jon's whore, sprawled out on his bed like this, but she felt heartbroken and dizzy and didn't think she could muster up the energy anyway. He raised an eyebrow at her before he opened the door, but otherwise made no complaint.

“Sorry, your Grace but ...” The Maester saw Daenerys and his eyes widened. “Lord Umber wishes to send ravens and asked me to check with you about their direction and content?” He turned a further suspicious look towards Dany.

“The queen and I have matters to discuss,” Jon said sternly, “and are both tired from our ride from the Wall.” He fixed the man with a long stare. “If you feel it's of any great concern of yours?”

The Maester paled. “My apologies, your Graces. Ah, perhaps … is there any … remedy I can offer either of you?”

“We've much to do and very little time to rest,” Jon answered. “So a tonic of some sort to keep us going would certainly be welcome.”

“I understand,” the man said with a bow, “I will fetch that for you after these messages are sorted, although I'm sure I don't need to tell you that such brews are to be taken sparingly.”

Daenerys managed to muster the energy to pull herself up into sitting position whilst Jon and the Maester sat at the desk, knowing it was important for her to pay attention and contribute to their discussion. However, every time she thought about some addition or other, Jon had already mentioned it and she soon started to relax, lulled by both men's deep, memorising northern accents. She remembered nothing more until opening her eyes some time later to find Jon lying down on the bed next to her, his dark eyes regarding her whilst numerous subtle emotions raced across his features. She lifted a hand to stroke his cheek and noticed him wince very slightly at her touch.

“Has Sam's news changed how you feel about me?” she asked quietly. “About us?”

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “No.” He paused, considering. “Words can't change my heart, even though it probably does need discussing.”

She nodded. “Being aunt and nephew means little to Targaryens, but then you're more wolf than dragon so I did wonder if it would upset you.”

He shrugged. “If we'd ended up brother and sister it might have been more difficult for me but actually 'this' is the least confusing aspect of the news.”

“You're more upset about Eddard, I expect?” He nodded. “And confused about being Aegon Targaryen?”

“Confused?” He laughed. “Understatement.”

“And having a greater claim to the throne?”

He glared at her. “You know me better than that.”

“Or being the only Targaryen left to continue the line.”

“Now you're being ridiculous.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. Will you please stop trying to get rid of me! How much Dragon would there be left in any future children I might have with another woman anyway?”

“So this really is the end of our House?”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps we will both live to see our hundredth year and make some difference to this world before we die? Perhaps _that_ can be the lasting legacy of House Targaryen?”

She smiled. “That's a nice thought, although surviving the next year is going to be challenging enough.”

“Aye, but I think we can afford to stay here for an hour or two. Just you and me, keeping the rest of the world out there for a little longer.”

“A little longer … yes,” she replied numbly, moving closer to Jon and noticing that her almost constant hunger for his body was strangely absent, perhaps proving she really wasn't herself.

“I'm not sure if we'll be able to sleep or if you want to talk some more but ...” He sighed, pulling her close.

“Warm ...” That wasn't quite what she had meant to say but it seemed to be the only word she could find at that moment.

He chuckled. “After all we've been through today, perhaps that's enough.”

She drifted in and out of a half-sleep, comforted by Jon's warmth and yanked awake by the memory of what came with the cold. And she wasn't the only one. Jon also tossed and turned, his eyes snapping open a few times as he mumbled something about an old, reoccurring nightmare. Eventually talking became a necessity, just to keep their sleeping horrors at bay.

“You did well today … with Rhaegal,” she said.

He grunted. “I think you were laughing at me.”

“No … well, not really. Your expressions and reactions amused me a little but, considering everything … you did well.”

“I think he understood me?” Jon said, “But I'm not sure if that was my words or my thoughts?”

“I don't fully understand the nature of that communication either,” she replied. “We are the first dragon riders in hundreds of years. Who else is there left to ask?”

“I'm sure there's something written down somewhere.” He chuckled. “Sam would love to help out with that, I'm certain.” There was another long pause.

“I'm not trying to get rid of you,” she belatedly replied to his earlier question. He jumped a little and she wasn't sure if it was because he had fallen asleep or in relief at her words. “I don't want anything to come between us now.”

“There are a lot of things which could.”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “Honestly, it's one thing after another, isn't it? One _reason_ after another, but my answer will never change. You are my queen now and forever and I couldn't stay away from you, even if I wanted to.”

She wriggled even closer, giving a contented sigh. “I couldn't understand our bond before, but now it makes perfect sense. Targaryens have always had a unique connection. Something in our very blood which calls out to magic and dragons and … one another.”

“A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing.” His voice was quiet and thoughtful.

“Hmm?”

“I knew your … great uncle, I think? Maester Aemon at the Night's Watch. That was something I overheard him say one day but, for all his wisdom, I doubt he knew what I was. In some ways I wish I _had_ known back then so I could have told him, and I wish he'd lived long enough to meet you.” She swallowed back unexpected tears but Jon still managed to sense it. “I'm sorry, love, it's hard to discuss anything today without it upsetting one or other of us.”

“It doesn't matter,” she said. “We both needed to let go, as we said before.” And she allowed herself to cry a little more, savouring Jon's warmth as his soothing voice whispered gentle reassurances. One of her hands found its way under his shirt, tracing gentle patterns on his stomach, suddenly, urgently needing to feel his skin against hers.

“Is this really the time?” he asked, amused, as she started to wriggle her fingers under the waist band of trousers and her lips nuzzled at his neck.

“I just need you close.”

He sighed, his own hand stroking a breast through her dress. “I know.”

For once there was no desperate passion, no urgent need for relief, just soft touches and light kisses of lips and cheeks. The two of them made no attempt to undress fully, their caresses lasting for ages between bouts of dosing and soft words, until they had rearranged their clothes just enough to allow Jon to slide inside of her. Once there he stilled - neither of them moving for some time - and Dany revelled in their closeness, enjoying the feel of him inside her with no chance of him growing softer. They both savoured the sweetness of their slowly mounting desire, dragging out their climax into one long sigh, before holding each other gently in a close, desperate embrace.

She managed to fall asleep almost immediately and, this time, she had no nightmares of cold, blue eyes, only of Jon and his warm brown ones, burying deep into her soul.

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all still enjoying this little AU. As I've said before, I'm not honestly expecting S8 to go this way, although I do have a number of predictions for the show which I may revisit in another fanfic at some point. Looks like we've plenty of time to kill until the next season starts! :P
> 
> Feel free to ask questions and speculate and I'll do my best to respond, although I do like to keep my secrets so my 'answers' may be a little vague. ;)


	8. Chapter 8

The first carts were already being loaded up to transport the women, children and old folk when Jon and Daenerys headed down to Last Hearth's Great Hall for a second meeting with Lord Umber. Here they again urged haste and pushed for _everyone_ to travel south-west as soon as possible, using all their powers of persuasion to convince the lords that fighting from here was not a viable option.

Afterwards the Maester handed Jon the two bottles of medicine he'd promised, along with a further warning about the dangers of their overuse, and he and Daenerys took a dose from the one which would give them a quick energy boost, before heading back out into the pre-dawn gloom. Jon groaned as he started to climb up Rhaegal - the stiffness from yesterday's ride on such an unusual beast really beginning to take hold - wishing he'd asked the Maester for a muscle salve too. In contrast Dany scrambled up with speed and grace, despite her general tiredness, obviously far more accustomed to this mode of transport than he was.

They circled the castle a few times, both for Jon to reacquaint himself with flying and to allow their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Winter was here and with it came the promise of constant night and Jon could only be grateful that his eyesight was quite so keen. He paused at the thought, suddenly curious. Was that a Targaryen thing too?

Ravens had been sent out to all the local farms and hold-fasts yesterday and horse riders had followed, either to back up the call or contact those who could not be reached by bird. Jon and Daenerys headed back to the forest, determined to set its northern edge alight before they headed back south, but needing to be certain that there were none still living there. So, they helped with the evacuation of the group they'd spoken to the day before - even using the dragons to lift a few heavier items closer to Last Hearth to speed things up - before circling the area in order to plan their next moves.

Once confident that everyone had things under control, the pair flew north towards the small wood they'd set alight the day before; travelling fast and low along the coast in order to use the sea mist as cover. There they reignited the trees on its southern edge before returning to torch the northern part of the larger forest. Finally they circled Last Hearth once more before flying south-west, heading for Long Lake and following the river which flowed east of Winterfell and the Kingsroad. Jon kept his eyes forward, not wishing to be tempted by the sight of his old home, and wondering idly if any of Sansa's guards would have keen enough eyesight to see the two dragons flying past in the distance.

They were travelling at speed now that Jon had gained some confidence and, up here, the distances seemed small and insignificant. Past Winterfell they flew and from there down the river towards the white knife, before moving a little west to intercept the party from the ship. They hadn't expected the group to have met up with the army yet and so were surprised when they saw the sprawling war tents set east of the Kingsroad. As they flew closer and lower, it seemed obvious to Jon that the Dothraki had sent scouts ahead to help co-ordinate an earlier meet up and couldn't help but wonder if Daenerys would be impressed by their initiative or annoyed that her orders had been disobeyed. A month ago he would have said the latter but now he wasn't so sure. He felt that the queen was becoming more considered in her actions recently, but perhaps that was just because of the grief she'd been suffering from.

He was worried about her, he realised, although at least that concern was helping to distract him from his own brooding. She needed a break and an opportunity to truly grieve but there was little chance that she would get that luxury any time soon. Even a brisk ride north on horseback would allow her some time to reflect on things - as it would for him - but, unfortunately, that was _not_ the way the two of them would be spending the following week.

They landed at the edge of the camp and, this time, Jon's dismount was a little more refined. He gave Rhaegal a casual pat on his muzzle before turning around to find himself the unexpected centre of attention; numerous eyes turned his way as all activity stopped. The army were used to the dragons of course and so it took Jon a moment to understand that their stunned looks were in regards to him; this stern, dark-haired northerner casually hopping off one of the queen's children as if he'd been a dragon rider his entire life rather than a mere two days.

Tryion, Davos and Varys were now moving forwards with Arya, Missandei and Sam not far behind but Jon ignored them all, walking boldly towards Drogon and waiting for Dany to dismount, instinctively catching her under the elbow as her feet touched the ground and her knees buckled slightly.

“Your Grace?” Messandei cried, moving forwards. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she replied, “just very tired. We've both had a number of shocks these last two days.”

“What is it?” Tyrion asked. “What news?”

“Prepare for a meeting,” Jon told them, “and I promise we'll tell you everything … you need to know then. However, if you could allow some time to change and eat before that?” He hoped his pause hadn't been too obvious but he really wasn't ready to share his personal news with anyone else yet.

“Your Grace?” Tyrion asked Daenerys, obviously needed his queen's reassurance.

“Lord Stark's commands are my commands,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically weak. “Give us an hour and then I promise you that we will be ourselves.”

Jon was unable to hide his scoff. _'_ _Whatever that is for me right now_ _._ _'_

“Of course,” Tyrion said, although his frown made it clear he knew he was missing something. “Don't worry about food though as we'll provide that at the meeting.” He grinned, bleakly. “Along with copious amounts of wine that the pair of you seem urgently in need of. Missandei and Ser Davos will show you the way there and back.”

Jon reluctantly released Dany into Missandei's care and followed the knight to the small pavilion which apparently belonged to him.

“We thought perhaps you'd be returning last night,” Davos said.

“So did we.” Jon quickly stripped off his upper layers so he could sponge himself down and put on a new shirt. He then yanked out the tie in his hair and carelessly splashed his face with water before running damp hands through his tangled black curls. “One day soon I swear I'm just going to hack this all off.”

“Best consult Daenerys first.”

He looked up at Davos with a frown. “What? Why?”

“I once shaved my beard off on a whim and my wife refused to let me into her bed until it grew back.”

Jon gaped. “What?”

Davos laughed and handed him a skin. “Here, Tyrion was right, you look as if you could down a whole cask, but I suppose this will have to do for now.”

Jon swigged it back so fast he was barely able to taste the contents. “Need food more.”

He picked up the hair tie and sighed again, his mind drifting slightly to Dany's previous comments about his hair and then to his father ... ' _N_ _o Ned … no … Damn it!_ _'_ He'd spent too many years in this world to start changing how he thought about his various family members. _'My father Eddard Stark!'_ He shouted the sentence in his head.

Now slightly annoyed and highly distracted, Jon only tied back part of his hair, leaving it freer than was his recent custom, but rather more manageable than when he'd been younger. Deep down he knew it was a decision born out of a stubborn refusal to deny that he was anything other than Ned Stark's son and as a tribute to the man he would always think of as his father. Jon continued to dress, grumble and stretch out his aching muscles whilst Davos watched on patiently, a concerned look on his face, until the young man was finally ready to head to the meeting.

~o~0~o~

Daenerys was the last to arrive and Jon's gaze went straight to her, needing to know how she was faring and not especially reassured on seeing her looking so pale and tired. Of course it was true that they were on an exceptionally tight schedule here but neither of them would be any use if they were exhausted. Jon's mind went to the second bottle he'd acquired from the Maester at Last Hearth and he wondered whether tonight might be the ideal time to use it.

Dany started to walk past him and then paused, doing a double take. “I thought you didn't want _that_ drawn attention to here?” she whispered as she walked past him.

“What?” he asked, confused.

She nodded her head, pointedly, but, unusually, Jon was quite unable to understand what she was referring to. All of the usual crowd from the ship were here; Tyrion, Varys, Davos, Jorah and Messandei along with Sam, Arya, Grey Worm and a couple of Dothraki. They were all looking at the late arrivals expectantly but Jon refused to make eye contact, instead heading for the food that Tyrion had promised and taking a huge bite from a leg of meat before returning to the table with it and a very large hunk of bread. He leant over to Missandei as he walked past her.

“Make sure she eats something,” he whispered.

The girl gave him a startled look before nodding solemnly and Jon kept one eye on her and Dany for the rest of the meeting, impressed at how subtly the dark haired girl seemed to be taking care of her friend. Mostly though he was focused on his own stomach and couldn't believe how much better he was feeling after taking just a few decent bites of food.

“If Lord Stark has _quite_ finished wolfing down half our supplies, we should perhaps begin?” the queen suggested in a tone which hinted at the return of the old Daenerys.

Jon grinned sheepishly but was certainly not going to apologise for his appetite.

“Riding dragons must be hungry work,” Tyrion suggested.

That could have had a double meaning of course, but thankfully no one dared assume the worse. “It is terrifying and thrilling in equal measure.” Jon shook his head, trying to distract himself as he realised that that could have meant Dany too. He took another bit of bread to stop from grinning. “Near death experiences have always made me hungry.”

Davos chuckled at that and Jon glared at the man, wondering at how difficult this conversation had become when they hadn't even reached the main point yet. He sighed loudly and looked towards the queen who subtly nodded.

“Samwell came here from Winterfell with news from my brother,” he began. “Bran has visions, you see, a skill which he is apparently struggling to come to terms with. Some things he sees are clear, others … less so. To keep things simple, I will just say that he had a message for the queen and I about the Wall and that he'd seen both of us riding dragons to get there.” He knew his evasiveness and omissions would be obvious to most here, but there just wasn't time to explain the rest, even if he had wanted to.

“And so you just decided to hop up on a dragon with no thought about the consequences should it decide to eat you?” Varys asked.

“I did perhaps think that briefly,” he admitted.

Daenerys shook her head. “That was _never_ going to happen.”

“And you knew that, because ...?” Tyrion asked.

“In the end it didn't matter,” Jon said, “because it turns out that Bran was correct and we did need to be there. We needed to see ...” He winced, glancing back over at the queen.

“See what?”

At least everyone's attention was back where it needed to be. “The Wall has fallen at Eastwatch.”

“What!”

“How?”

Jon looked back over at Dany, cursing himself for placing himself on this side of the table when he could be over on _that_ side holding her hand.

“Viserion,” she whispered. “The Night King has him now.”

Now they would finally understand why she was currently so quiet and upset but it was more important that they understood the rest. Jon explained what they had been doing during their absence; how they had started to evacuate those communities living close to Eastwatch and how they would have to fly north every day to continue those efforts until the queen's army finally reached Winterfell.

“This can't wait another week,” Daenerys said when a few started to object. “The Army of the Dead won't reach Winterfell before us, it's true, but if we stay here with you then we're simply giving the Night King extra soldiers.

“But, by flying up there, you could end up giving him another dragon,” Tyrion said. “In fact, he could have gained two more yesterday.”

“That will always be a risk, no matter when we engage him,” Jon said, “but at least this way we can start to prepare. Daenerys on dragon back alone could be seen by the north as a threat, but my being there during these evacuations should make a difference.”

“As it already has,” she added. “I didn't know Lord Umber and he didn't know me. Why would he trust what I had to say? Jon didn't when we first met, and I now understand why, but these houses still see him as their king and a Stark and they will trust him because of it.”

“And you have started to refer to him as Lord Stark now, I notice,” Varys said.

“As queen I have the authority to legitimise him,” she replied, carefully. “And, for those of you who haven't already realised, we plan to marry to strengthen our alliance further, which means Snow is a highly inappropriate name for my consort.”

Jon tried not to let his amusement show, loving the way Daenerys had phrased that for her followers whilst also managing to keep his secret. He allowing his gaze to travel to each in turn, getting a measure of their reactions to her news.

“My sincere congratulations,” Varys said with his usual bow, hands in sleeves. “News of such a union will make Cersei exceptionally nervous.”

“As well it should,” Dany retorted. “While this tentative truce holds she is of no interest to me but, once it is over, I'm going to want my chair back.”

Jon happened to be looking at Arya at this point. In some ways his sister was a stranger to him now - still, serious and deep in a way she had never been as a child - but he saw something familiar then; a flicker around her eyes, a twitch of the lips he remembered from their youth. _'What are you planning,_ _little one_ _?'_ he wondered.

Whilst their joint council tried to push them on their decision generally, Jon and Daenerys urged them to discuss specifics. They would sleep here each night, breaking their fast during the morning meeting, before flying north to continue with the evacuations. Then, assuming nothing urgent changed their plans, the two dragon riders would return to the camp for an evening meeting to discuss their day. By the time the army reached Winterfell, they should have detailed plans of attack and defence to lay before the northern lords and their armies.

“And will you now visit Winterfell ahead of us?” Jorah asked.

“I had wanted to avoid that, it's true,” Jon replied, “but that was the idea of Daenerys flying there on her own, after or when we arrived and, although we could keep to the original plan, it won't be long before my sister hears news of what we've been up to. Two large dragons flitting between castles in the north is not something that can go unnoticed, so it's probably best we visit sooner rather than later to make sure they fully understand what is happening and why.”

As the meeting progressed, the queen started to take the initiative back from Jon and he was happy to take a step back, both because he needed the break and because it meant she was beginning to regain some of her old fire. Once she'd dismissed everyone, Daenerys instantly looped her arm in Missandei's and headed out and Jon made a point of intercepting Tyrion who looked as if he was about to follow her.

“I need a word with you,” he said. “A favour to ask.”

Tyrion looked at him a little suspiciously. “Yes?”

“We're both exhausted as you may have noticed and the queen is obviously heartbroken about what she saw up there.”

“All the more reason to stay here tomorrow.”

He shook his head. “I wish we could and it's true we need sleep but-” Tyrion arched an eyebrow and Jon glowered at him. “And, no, this has got nothing to do with ... our relationship, I'm being serious here.”

“Yes, sorry. Go on.”

“I, ah, managed to acquire a sedative from the Maester at Last Hearth and was planning to have us both take a dose tonight. Daenerys can't sleep without nightmares of Viserion at the moment and I … have my own issues which are keeping me up.”

“Which you don't intend to share with us?”

Jon winced. “Soon, I promise, but this will all be a lot easier if I can have one night of uninterrupted sleep.”

“Which is far more likely if you're both in your own tents.”

He shook his head. “I doubt it'll make any difference if this sedative is as effective as the Maester claims, but I really just wanted to suggest a compromise. I thought that we and the army could decamp a little later tomorrow in order for all of us to make faster progress in the long run?”

Tyrion stared at him for a long time before finally nodding. “That actually makes some sense.”

Jon laughed. “Thanks.”

“I take it our queen does not know about that sedative?”

He winced. “Ah, no.”

“Well, good luck dealing with her tomorrow morning when she wakes up.”

“I'll only be in trouble if she works out it's me,” Jon said, smirking slightly, “and _I'm_ not the one who's been openly asking us both to stay here for longer.”

The look of total shock on the dwarf's face was immensely satisfying to see. After all, it wasn't often that Jon was able to get the last word in with someone as sharp as Tyrion.

~o~0~o~

Next he needed to check in with the Dragonglass Crew, as he had started calling them. Sam was to come along to share some information he'd discovered in Old Town and Jon also invited his sister, as Gendry had explained how he and Arya had travelled together when they had both fled Kingslanding. He wasn't certain how he felt about reintroducing these two now that Arya was no longer a child but he knew that the reunion couldn't be avoided indefinitely. As the three of them walked towards the supply weapons at the back of the army, Arya's focus was mostly on Jon, asking how he was coping with the revelations about his parentage. Her serious, concerned expression again brought home to him how changed she was from the little girl he'd once known, but then he was hardly one to talk. They had all suffered in different ways these last few years and it would be impossible for them to come away from those experiences unchanged.

“The Children of the Forest fashioned crude weapons from dragonglass, and so it's been easy enough to copy their style,” Jon explained as they got closer to the rear of the huge army. “We've brought the raw material with us too - wagon loads of it - and we've even got a portable armoury so we can continue to make them as we travel.“

“I've read accounts explaining that there are better ways of creating dragonglass weapons,” Sam said. “Ways lost to us since the Doom. Nothing I discovered was particularly clear, but that's really why I need to talk to the crew here and discuss my findings with them.”

“Yes, it's an excellent idea,” Jon agreed, “ and I really should have thought about it before.”

Sam laughed. “You've had other things on your mind since I arrived.”

He shook his head. “That's no excuse. Not now.”

One member of the crew had seen them and hurried forwards with a hasty bow. “My lord.”

“I need to speak with Gendry if he's free,” Jon said, smirking as he heard Arya's sudden intake of breath from behind him. However, as he turned to make some teasing comment, his sister was bending down to fiddle with her boot, apparently in no hurry to renew the acquaintance. Jon shrugged at her reaction, continuing forwards to introduce Sam to Gendry and promising himself that he'd talk to his sister later to get her side of things.

“Well, of course you must take whatever weapons you need,” Gendry said once Jon had told him his plan for the following day. “We've certainly not been turning them out as quickly since we've been on the road, but it should be much easier once we arrive at Winterfell. How long do you think we'll have once we get there?”

“Probably mere days before the fighting starts,” Jon replied. “But perhaps we could take some of the raw material up to Winterfell on dragon back in the next day or two? Would that be of any help?”

Gendry frowned, considering. “They're not complicated weapons to make, as you know, and the armourers there should make faster progress than we can, assuming they understand what we've already learnt.”

“Well, Sam here wants to share what he discovered in Old Town with you,” Jon said, “and, afterwards, he can write down your instructions for us to take up there, if that would help?” And he left the young men to it, heading back out to see where his sister had got to.

“Sorry … stone in my boot,” Arya mumbled and Jon rolled his eyes at the poor excuse. Despite his curiosity though, their walk back to the centre of the camp was mostly filled with talk about the Valyrian blades each had acquired, with his sister asking which weapons and methods were needed to destroy the wights and White Walkers.  He had only just reached his pavilion when Missandei intercepted him.

“The queen has asked for a meeting with you, Lord Stark,” she said. “If you would follow me?”

He gave the young lady a questioning look. “A meeting?”

“Those were her exact words, my lord,” she replied with a shy smile, “but perhaps not her true meaning?”

He chuckled. “Thanks for earlier, by the way.”

“And you. I feel happier knowing she has you to look out for her up there.”

“She can be reckless at times.”

The girl smiled slyly at him. “She says the same about you, in fact.”

Jon stopped walking then, forcing Missandei to also pause and turn around. “I've spoken to Tyrion about us getting a slightly later start tomorrow,” he told her, holding up the bottle he was clutching. “We both need a deep, dreamless sleep tonight but it's only fair to warn you that we may also need help waking up in the morning.”

The girl look shocked, then amused. “I understand,” she said, nodding her head. “Lord Tyrion and I will discuss the timings of our preparations tomorrow.”

“Thank you.”

“This is the queen's pavilion, Lord Stark.” She smiled broadly. “I do hope you sleep well tonight.”

Jon laughed at her little joke and entered.

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this one was hard work to get out. I hadn't fully appreciated how pivotal this chapter was until I came to edit it as we're now comfortably into the action whilst it also needs to lay down a number of important future plots points. And, yes, I'm aware this is a bit light on sexy!Jonerys at the moment, but I promise this story will continue to focus on the two of them, despite all the war drama. And that has been this story's main challenge; trying to work the plot so that it doesn't distract from Jon x Dany. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for the continuing love for this fic. Got a whole weekend dedicated to focusing on this and I'm getting into some very challenging stuff right now (I'm currently working on chapter 11 :D ) and I do like to stay well ahead so I can guarantee my weekly updates and take your comments/thoughts into consideration.


	9. Chapter 9

Daenerys wasn't so tired that she hadn't noticed Jon and Missandei's little conspiracy during the evening meeting. Part of her felt she should be annoyed at their fussing but, in truth, she appreciated it and her friend always had know which food would appeal to the queen on any given day. Up until that point, the grief and exhaustion had simply demanded more of her attention than food, but once she started eating, she realised just how hungry she was, even if she did now feel even more tired.

Not that she expected to be able to sleep tonight though, and she definitely couldn't face that time without Jon by her side, which meant they would have to break their promise to Tyrion yet again. Cabin hopping would become tent hopping here and bed hopping in any of the castles they needed to visit. Or perhaps they should just continue the way they had today, openly walking into each other's tents and rooms as if they were already married? In the end it took very little time for her to send Missandei off to fetch him.

“You look better,” Jon said as he entered her pavilion.

“So do you,” she responded, “although I'm curious about your new hair style.”

He threw his cloak over a chair before heading over towards her. “My father wore it like this.” She raised an eyebrow at him and he glared at her. “My father Eddard Stark.”

She tried not to let her amusement show. “Ah, I see.”

“What do you see?” he asked, eyes glinting dangerously.

“Beautiful stubbornness,” she replied with a smile.

He sighed, shoulders slumping as he moved even closer to her. “I did not know your brother. I know nothing of him other than the histories and what Sam has relayed. Even assuming what Bran saw was true, Rhaegar is _not_ the man who raised me.”

“No, I do understand, Jon and I didn't mean to tease you, it's only that you reminded me of Viserys a little earlier because of your hair and he modelled _his_ style on Rhaegar's whom he hero worshipped as a child.”

“What?”

“I mean, obviously your hair is dark, but it does have the same curls and there was something about your air when you took charge of that meeting and ...” She shook her head. “I just wondered if Jorah or Varys might see something of the Targaryen in you too. I'm sure it wouldn't take much for them to connect the dots once they saw you ride a dragon with such confidence.”

“I should perhaps change it back?” he asked, frowning.

She shrugged. “It's a common enough style, as you said, and I'm sure I only saw it because I know of your secret. Personally I prefer it this way.”

“Not fully loose?” he teased.

“Well, yes,” she replied, smirking, “but _that_ beauty is now for my eyes only.”

His returning look was disarming - half shy, half sly - and he just gazed at her for a while before turning to pick up a jug of wine from the table and bringing it and a couple of goblets towards the low, fur covered bed. The sight of him acting so casually in her war tent, undressing and pouring them some wine as if he belonged here, made Daenerys shudder in delight. Well, he _did_ belong here, she decided as she also undressed, shivering with the cold before quickly diving under the furs, all the while anticipating the ways Jon might soon be warming her up. He handed one goblet to her and Dany took a sip, savouring the warmth as it slipped down, as well as the other type of warmth which was building inside her as Jon removed the last of his clothes.

“Like what you see?” he teased.

“Yes,” she said, licking her lips. “Suddenly I don't feel quite so tired.”

“No?”

He took a long swig from his own cup, before clambering onto the bed, leaning forward to kiss her gently. She hummed as she licked his lips to taste the wine on them and then giggled as he suddenly pounced on her, burying them both under the furs. His lips reclaimed hers and her mouth opened eagerly as their tongues danced and explored as if for the very first time. Then, to her surprise, the flare of desire started to ease as Jon pulled her closer and kissed her softly - the gaps between each growing gradually longer - until Daenerys felt her eyelids growing inexplicably heavy.

“Don't want to sleep ...” she mumbled as she felt herself being pulled under. “It's cold there.”

“Hush, my little dragon,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head. “I promise that you'll only dream of fire tonight.”

~o~0~o~

Sleeping with Jon had always relaxed Daenerys, but their mutual desire would often pull them awake, meaning it had been a while since she'd had a deep, uninterrupted sleep. The only thing she was at all aware of was a familiar soft voice talking urgently at some point, but Dany somehow knew the words weren't for her and happily allowed the warmth to reclaime her.

“Your Grace?” Some time had passed and this time Missandei's voice was harder to ignore, even though it still sounded very quiet and distant. “Daenerys?” She rarely called her that, despite insisting it was acceptable when they were alone. “If you would drink this, it will help to rouse you.”

She blinked open her eyes to find her friend perched on the edge of the bed and holding a goblet which Daenerys accepted with a warm smile. “I slept so well.”

Missandei smiled back. “It's almost time for the morning meeting, your Grace, and then you and Lord Stark will need to fly north again.”

“Jon?” Dany sat up suddenly, turning to her right and realising belatedly that he wasn't in bed next to her. She then saw her friend's amused look and turned pink. “Ah ...”

“I woke him an hour ago.” The girl's gaze dropped to her lap. “And I see what you mean about all those layers he wears. He certainly does looks a _lot_ better without them.”

“Missandei!” she gasped before giggling along with her friend. “How did he react to having you wake him up?”

“He was very calm about it, considering,” she replied. “Although he seemed a little surprised at just how deep his sleep had been.”

“He's not the only one.” Dany frowned, looking at the discarded goblet of wine from last night and then up to Missandei who shrugged.

“I think 'someone' thought it would do you two some good to get some proper sleep.”

“Someone?”

“That is not for me to say,” Missandei replied, meekly. “Are you _very_ cross?”

“About being drugged?” Dany asked pointedly as she hauled herself out of bed. “I probably should be but I honestly can't remember the last time I felt this refreshed.” She was suddenly aware of the faint light outside. “What time is it?”

“I believe the breakfast meeting was deliberately delayed in order to give … everyone time to recover from their exertions.”

“Everyone?” Missandei smiled softly as she helped her dress. “A conspiracy then,” Daenerys continued. “I wonder how a queen should deal with such dissenters in her ranks.”

“Your Grace?” a female voice called from outside. “May I enter?”

“Lady Arya, please do.”

“Just Arya, please. That title belongs to my sister. Sorry to disturb you but Lord Tyrion sent me to ask if you're ready yet. I believe the little lion grows impatient.”

“Impatient? Really?” She grinned at Missandei. “So I should perhaps take him off the list of suspects?”

“Suspects?” Arya asked as Dany walked towards her.

“On who drugged Jon and me last night to ensure we got some proper sleep.”

The girl frowned slightly and then smiled. “Easy enough to find out if you _really_ want to know.”

“Oh?”

“I have my suspicions already, as it happens, but it seems to me that the person in question did you both a favour.”

“You're probably right.”

~o~0~o~

“Ah, finally!” Tyrion said as the queen entered the pavilion. “So good of you to join us this afternoon, Your Grace.”

“It is still the morning as you well know,” she said, heading straight for the food that had been laid out. “And _I_ wasn't the one who rescheduled this meeting. Now, what news?”

“We plan to march hard today and hopefully rejoin the Kingsroad late afternoon,” Tryion began. “Everyone has benefited from the extra rest and the snow has stopped falling for the time being so it's best to take full advantage.”

“I've thought of another use for the dragons, in fact,” Jon said. “It crossed my mind that the queen and I could fly north over the road this morning and melt any drifts of snow we may encounter. We can do the same on the return journey if we have further falls this afternoon. Hopefully that should speed up your progress towards Winterfell.”

“I would not mind if you should melt all of it,” Grey Worm said. “Unsullied were trained to cope with many things but snow was not one of them.”

Those from the south mumbled their agreement whilst the northerners laughed, good naturedly.

“Today the plan is for us to fly to the area around the Bay of Seals and from there onto Karhold,” Jon continued, pointing at the map in front of them. “That area is unlikely to come under immediate attack, but there are a few defences we can set in place and it's only right those people fully understand what will be going on further west. We'll be checking on Last Hearth too, of course, to make sure their evacuation is proceeding as planned.”

From the other side of the table Varys shook his head. “A problem?” Daenerys asked.

“Not at all,” he replied. “I am simply trying to wrap my head around the distances the pair of you will cover today whilst we crawl mere inches up this map.”

“What about Winterfell?” Tyrion asked. “You were saying yesterday that you expect this news to reach them soon.”

Jon nodded. “We'll probably need to visit there tomorrow. I would go today but I'd really rather check on the places in the more direct line of attack first and drop off some dragonglass weapons for those overseeing the evacuations.”

“And you plan to return here tonight?”

“We _plan_ to, yes.” He shrugged. “There are still a lot of unknowns but now that we're both well rested and as I become more accustomed to flying, we shouldn't require as many breaks as we needed yesterday.”

“You need to be careful though,” Arya said. “If you're flying close to the Night King?”

“We're not going to get _that_ close,” Dany replied.

“But he might use the same trick. Fly south to scout?”

“All the more reason for us to be around.” She sighed, trying not to think what they would need to do in that case but realising she had much of it planned in her head already.

There were a few more things discussed and Dany savoured the chance to help make plans whilst she was actually feeling awake. After the meeting Jon headed straight for her - a leather bag slung over one shoulder - and offered her his other arm so they could walk out together, a gesture which felt both wickedly thrilling and beautifully everyday.

“You look far more yourself today,” he said with a smile.

“A good sleep will do that,” she replied. “Apparently someone slipped us something last night.”

“So I gather.”

Arya walked past them and scoffed loudly. “Someone,” she mumbled.

Jon glared at his sister's back. “Hey, Arya. You going to visit the the Dragonglass Crew today by any chance?”

His sister turned around sharply, a shocked look on her face and then, on seeing Jon's smirk, stuck her tongue out at him. Dany was just about to ask what Jon was teasing her about when she suddenly recalled his obvious concern for her well-being yesterday and finally put it all together.

“It was you!” she said, spinning towards him. “I wondered why the Maester gave you _two_ bottles. You drugged me last night and Missandei was in on it, which is why she said she had to wake you up too.”

“Actually, I drugged both of us,” he replied calmly, “and so she was telling the absolute truth about this morning. Gods, that Maester wasn't joking when he explained how effective it was.”

She glared at him. “I should punish you for that.”

He turned and smirked at her. “I look forward to it, my queen.”

“Jon!” She hit him on the arm and he laughed, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her flush against him, before kissing her passionately, out in the open, where anyone could see.

“Ahem!”

They jumped apart quickly as Davos sauntered past, grinning, and the pair scampered off towards the dragons like a couple of guilty children caught pilfering apples. However, as they got closer, Dany placed a hand on Jon's arm, holding him back.

“Never forget what they are,” she warned. “Never assume you have them tamed. Always approach with caution.”

“Not horses,” he replied solemnly. “Aye, I understand.” And he lowered his head very slightly as he edged slowly towards Rhaegal whilst she did the same with Drogon; making eye contact to ensure he fully understood her intent before starting to make her way up his back.

Jon was learning quickly, but Daenerys knew it would take a while before he had fully mastered riding. As Rhaegal got ready to fly, she saw that he was pulling those faces again and had to look away to stop herself from laughing. Once in the air, Jon now appeared perfectly relaxed and skilled but the ascending and descending definitely needed more polish.

Studying the map had helped. She would have said she had learnt it pretty well before, but there was nothing like having actually flown over it yesterday and then comparing that to the pavilion version to fully set everything in ones memory. They flew north up the Kingsroad, as planned, scouting it for any obstacles and taking note of the terrain the soldiers would need to negotiate. The snow started to fall as soon as they entered the Barrowlands but there was little need to melt drifts this morning, not with their army another couple of days away. South of Winterfell the pair veered quickly east - keeping the Dreadfort on their right - before heading straight towards the Bay of Seals. Here they swooped lower, making note of the fishing villages and small hold-fasts that dotted the bay, before flying out to sea and skimming the mist strewn coast in order to stay hidden from the Night King. His army would be heading west anyway, even if their fires hadn't pushed them that way, so it made sense for the living dragons to approach from the eastern coastline, determined to venture even further north to survey the damage to the Wall and the pile of crumbled ice and iron which had once been Eastwatch. There was no point looking for survivors up here. Either they would have fled west along the remaining Wall or would already be part of the dead army.

Everything they did that morning was some form of battle planning as they gathered information, scouted the area and practised their flying skills. They learnt how to skim close to the ground and use the icy fog as cover. How to bank and loop and hide in the clouds to mount a surprise attack. How to use the wind to assist the forest fires they were creating as obstacles to their enemy's advance and work out how they could use two dragons to cover an attack more effectively.

Once they had gained all the information they needed around the Wall area, the pair headed back south-east, talking with village elders and minor lords and planning the building of a different sort of barrier; a long ditch which they could fill with flammable materials and set alight to act as a defence against the dead army. The idea was to create something similar north of Winterfell and so this was a trial run which would only be needed here if they lost that main battle. Daenerys dared not think about how useless such defences would be if she and Jon _did_ fail, but they had to do whatever they could to give these people some chance of survival in the worse case scenario.

From there they flew south-east to Karhold to talk to the young Lady Karstark about what was happening further north and west. Her people were also not likely to be in any immediate danger but, not only did they wish to discuss the defences the area would need if the battle went badly in Winterfell, but also to request more soldiers and supplies which were urgently required now they knew the war was imminent.

It was mid-afternoon and the sky was darkening already so they flew quickly back to Last Hearth to check on the evacuation and lend a hand where needed. Again the dragons helped to move some heavy supplies whilst the dragon riders continued to chivvy along those who were digging their heels in. In fact, Jon became _so_ frustrated by one family of stubborn farmers he went as far as getting Rhaegal to set alight the trees around their holding, even threatening to torch the buildings too if they didn't move their stuff out by the end of the day.

Daenerys raised an eyebrow as he stomped back towards her. “What?” he snapped.

“But if you use dragons to melt castles and burn cities …?” she said, quoting Jon's earlier comment to her at Dragonstone.

“This is hardly the same thing.”

“No, and I agree with you as it happens. You just surprised me, that's all.”

His glare quickly melted into a soft smile. “Good to know I still can.”

After one final sweep it was back to Last Hearth where the pair declined Ned Umber's offer of hospitality, keen to return south and not wanting to distract the young lord from completing the arrangements for his own journey towards Winterfell. So they were soon back on their dragons, flying past Long Lake and down the Kingsroad, this time melting some of the snow to allow for faster travel for their army over the next couple of days.

Everything seemed easier this evening, thanks to that rare, deep sleep, and that included Jon's landing and dismount. Dany nodded approvingly as she watched him descend and, fortunately, she was able to reach the ground without the need for his support today, although she took his arm anyway - a gesture which was now feeling reassuringly familiar - before each headed to their own pavilions to change for the evening meeting. Tonight this was simply a matter of confirming that the items both parties had discussed earlier had occurred with few problems and Daenerys was pleased to note that she had more of an appetite today, even if Jon continued to make it look as if she were picking at her food compared to him.

~o~0~o~

Dany was surprised at just how giddy she felt waiting for Jon to arrive in her pavilion that night. She unpacked one of her thin, silk dresses from what seemed like a life time ago and lay it on her bed in preparation. Then, after a fortifying goblet of wine - hopefully drug free this time - she quickly took off all her clothes, put on the silk dress and dived under the furs, shivering.

She didn't have to wait long. A draught of cold air heralded his arrival - a dark shadow against the darkness - as he strode towards the usual chair, flung his thick cloak over it and then yanked the tie out of his hair. The only candles lit were close to the bed and Daenerys could see the soft smirk on Jon's face as he stalked closer to her, quickly deciding he needed firmly putting in his place.

“Yes?” she asked. “Was there something you wanted, my lord?”

The smirk did not falter. “I'm here to apologise, your Grace.”

“And what is it you're apologising for?” she asked, enjoying the game.

“My crimes are many and heinous,” he declared.

She raised an eyebrow. “Such as …?”

“Falling asleep last night and leaving my queen unfulfilled for one.”

“Which was fairly inevitable considering what you put in our wine?”

“Another of my crimes, it's true, but my fall from grace began long before that when I dared to enter my queen's cabin with the sole aim of seducing her.”

She fought the urge to giggle, desperately trying to hold onto her role. “You have done wicked things to your queen, have you not?”

He took another step forward, eyes glistening dangerously. “I have. Shall I describe them all to you?”

She swallowed hard. “No need. Your guilt is proven and you shall now pay dearly for your sins.”

Jon lowered his head, attempting to look guilty, but she saw his eyes glisten through his dark curls as they fell across his eyes. “I will happily accept any punishment my queen deems fit.”

Now it was her turn to smirk. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that, my lord.”

It looked like she was going to have a great deal of fun tonight.

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for your support on this story.
> 
> I've been reading a few other S8 style fics this week and belatedly remembered that I'd avoided them deliberately so as not to get confused/influenced. That was brought home when I read another author talking about the fire ditch idea along with a few other plot points/lines which were surprisingly similar to the ones I'm currently writing in upcoming chapters. (Not copying you - honestly! :D) Then again, perhaps it's inevitable that we're going to hit on similar themes as we explore the various S8 possibilities
> 
> I'm staying fairly comfortably ahead on this fic at the moment (currently drawing some art for chapter 11 and writing chapter 12) which means I should be able to keep up my with Sunday updates. Getting to the challening/dramatic stuff right now though so keep sending me positive vibes! I'm hoping to get loads of new stuff written today and tomorrow. xxx 
> 
> My art WIP is up on my Tumblr (iamthewatcheronthewall) Twitter and Deviant Art (jaqtkd) if anyone wants a little teaser.


	10. Chapter 10

Jon had enjoyed their game at first. He and Daenerys had sparred with words and seductive looks as he edged closer to her bed but then, up until that point, he hadn't imagined his punishment would be anything other than enjoyable.

Not that it had been unpleasant, exactly, but it certainly did end up becoming very frustrating.

“Are you cold?” Daenerys asked him.

“A little,” he replied. “That bed looks warm though.”

She shook her head. “Better keep your clothes on for the moment then. Just sit on that chair by the brazier until you start feeling warmer. You are not to move until I give you permission.

“My queen?”

“I'll be a bit cold too but I suppose that can't be helped.” And she slid the furs down to her waist revealing a thin, sheer silk dress which looked more like an undergarment and left very little to the imagination.

“I like that,” Jon said, licking his lips as he watched her breasts rise and fall under the thin material.

“You're here to be punished, remember,” she said. “Stay exactly where you are.”

He nodded, his gaze moving between her eyes and her chest, wondering what she had planned. Once certain of his obedience she began to lower the furs even further; raising her knees and sliding one hand between her legs and Jon's heart started racing as he realised what she was about to do.

“Dany ...”

“You're to stay over there and just watch,” she told him as she shifted under the covers and started to pleasure herself. “No touching any part of me ... and no touching yourself either.”

“Gods!” She knew how much this was going to kill him. She understood only too well how much of his own pleasure was derived from making her happy.

His frustration was to get worse. As she began to warm up, Daenerys removed the furs completely, revealing the full elegance of her thin, silk dress as well as the temptation of her beautiful legs, now mostly exposed as she bunched the fabric higher. She even turned towards Jon to reveal more and more of herself, her gaze never leaving his as her breathing became fast and uneven.

“Please, Dany … please let me ...”

“Stay,” she ordered. “Only your eyes are allowed to make love to me. Nothing else. Move closer and look at me.”

He did as he was bid, keeping his hands on the seat of the chair as he edged it towards the pillow and gazing into her eyes, even though he didn't fully understand how it was going to help her.

“Gods, Jon … that's it ...” she gasped. “I'm not even going to need my hand if you keep looking at me like that.”

“You're torturing me,” he complained.

“ _Any_ punishment, you said.”

“I know, but ...”

“Shirt off if you're warm enough,” she gasped, now struggling to get the words out, “and then you may kiss me.” His eyes drifted downwards to where she had now fully exposed herself to him and he licked his lips in anticipation of the treat to come. “Not down there, my hungry wolf,” she said with a laugh. “Up here and keep your hands to yourself.”

He stripped off his shirt, debating removing the rest but not wishing to do anything which might make her prolong his agony. So, he clasped his hands behind his back to help resist temptation, leant over to kiss her lips gently and wondered what he could do to help her whilst still remaining within her rules. He licked her lips a few times and continued to stare into her eyes, seeing that was something she obviously liked, all the while watching and listening carefully and trying to work how close she really was. Once satisfied she was on the edge Jon pulled away a tiny amount, keeping her lips tantalisingly close, and continued to gaze at her beautiful eyes, now fully confident about his next move.

“I love you, Dany,” he said, slowly and sincerely, smiling as her whole body shuddered and she called out his name. Somewhere, out on the edge of the camp, Drogon roared. Jon smirked and leant forwards to kiss her again.

“No, strip now,” she commanded. “I want to see you.”

“And then?” he asked, quickly taking off his boots and trousers and looming over her, struggling to control his shivering.

“I believe you've suffered enough for one night,” she declared, opening her legs even further. “Come and take me. Hard!”

Jon honestly couldn't get up onto the bed fast enough.

~o~0~o~

Jon's jaw wasn't the only one to drop when Daenerys entered the meeting pavilion the following morning. Her hair was even more intricately styled than usual and she was wearing the same white riding coat she'd worn beyond the wall, although it was now embroidered with subtle red highlights, as was the grey, quilted jacket that Jon was currently dressed in. After a threat of further 'punishment' Jon had reluctantly accepted her gift this morning, grateful that the hint of Targaryen embroidery on his new clothes were currently well covered by his thick, northern-style cloak.

“I see you two are dressed to impress,” Tryion said.

“Travelling to Winterfell like this is not ideal, I know,” Jon said. “But, as I said, I really do need to talk to Sansa in person.”

The Hand sighed. “Yes, I can see that but please do be careful up there and mind your words and … actions.”

Jon rolled his eyes at Tyrion's less than subtle dig. If Arya was correct then their feelings for each other would be hard to hide completely, but he and Dany had already decided not to openly flaunt their relationship during this brief visit.

After the meeting they met with Gendry who had a number of sacks containing weapons and ore for them to carry up to Winterfell. Daenerys had the final say on what the dragons could take and directed those assigned to help load them up. Her children would accept others on their backs in an emergency - as had happened during the rescue north of the Wall - but they were never happy about it and, as such, this was not a task to be undertaken casually.

Jon, now well tuned into Rhaegal, was fully aware of how frustrated the dragon was about all this activity around him and had to use his full will to calm him, standing close to the beast's head and distracting him with soothing sounds and excessive compliments. He looked over at Daenerys during this and she rolled her eyes, obviously sharing his opinion about how overly dramatic the two dragons were being.

Once everything was loaded up, Gendry handed Jon a thick wad of paper - lists, instructions and diagrams for the Winterfell armourers all written in Sam's neat hand - and the two dragon riders then took leave of the Crew members and started back towards the their mounts.

“Do you think these two overgrown children of yours have got over their sulk yet?” he asked her.

“Drogon does not sulk,” Daenerys retorted. “Although I have noticed that Rhaegal is rather more prone to brooding recently. I think 'someone' has been a bad influence on him.”

She laughed as Jon stuck his tongue out at her, attempting to hide his smile as he turned to make his way up the green dragon's back. Then, leaving the army to decamp, the pair lifted off, turning north to the Kingsroad and heading directly for Winterfell, where they circled the castle a couple of times and looked for the best place to land. Jon was grinning broadly as Dany came over to him, excited to have seen his childhood home from such a unique angle and happily accepting her teasing of him as a result. They managed to unload the dragons without assistance, but would definitely need help carrying the majority of the bags up to the castle and so, as the dragons settled a little further away from the road to rest, the pair hoisted a couple of bags of weapons on their shoulders and walked the final stretch on foot. As they approached the outer gatehouse - remaining close but not touching, determined to show solidarity but nothing more - Jon was reminded of that time he came south with the wildlings and that long, tortuous pause whilst he waited for Ser Alliser to decide whether to let him in. And here he was again bringing what some might consider an enemy to his castle gates. He glowered. ' _Not this time. This time they_ have _to understand._ _'_

He had announced himself as King in the North to the more remote hold-fasts but knew it was going to be rather more complicated here. He had already sent messages to Sansa signed 'Warden of the North' and yet had no idea what information had been shared with whom. As such he could only hope that the guards at the gate would recognise him, otherwise it was going to get tricky.

“I am here with Queen Daenerys Targaryen to meet with Lady Stark,” he said, simply.

The guards bowed low. “She and Lord Brandon are expecting you. This way please.” Jon breathed out, pleased that that part, at least, had gone without a hitch.

They were lead across a packed Winterfell courtyard, numerous eyes following them as all activity stopped. Most people bowed as the pair passed, but it was obvious that the queen was the main reason for the numerous stares they were receiving. Jon remembered his own reaction to seeing Daenerys for the first time and so could hardly blame any of them but he remained nervous, nonetheless. He knew that many here would view a Targaryen as a threat and tried hard not to dwell on the fact that there were now _two_ of them in Winterfell. He instinctively flexed his sword hand.

“Relax,” she whispered, obviously sensing something of his mood.

“Not a chance,” he hissed back.

They were lead to one of the old halls on the ground floor, now evidently given over to Bran for his convenience, where they entered to find the pair awaiting them. Jon let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding as he lay eyes on his brother for the first time since the day he had left for the Wall.

“What in the seven hells have you been up to, Jon?” Sansa demanded, but he hardly heard her, striding towards Bran and sinking down on his knees by the side of his wheeled chair.

“You're all grown up,” he gasped, blinking at the young man in front of him and trying to reconcile this image with the memory of the small boy he'd last seen unconscious in bed.

“Hello, Jon.” Bran somehow managed to look at him without really seeing and he was reminded briefly of the way Maester Aemon had interacted with him, as if he was sensing him rather than viewing him with his eyes. He now understood what Arya had meant about their brother and glanced over at Sansa as he leant over to hug Bran. She shrugged slightly, obviously understanding his confusion, despite having other things on her mind right now. Jon sighed as he stood up and headed back towards Dany.

“It is my pleasure to introduce you to Queen Daenerys Stormborne of the House Targaryen,” he said. “Your Grace, my sister Lady Sansa Stark and my brother Lord Brandon Stark.”

“Not Lord,” Bran said. “I have denounced my claim.”

“And you have denounced _your_ title too, Jon,” Sansa said. “Why?”

“I travelled south to form an alliance with the queen, as you know,” he began. “Those negotiations were … not easy and so compromises needed to be made. However, as I explained in my messages, they were ultimately successful. Queen Daenerys had pledged her dragons and her army to our fight against the Night King and we have also secured a truce from Cersei who has promised us her soldiers in the short term as well.”

Sansa shook her head. “I find that very hard to believe.”

“I'm sure Lady Brienne will be able to confirm what was said at the Dragon Pit.”

“Yes, she returned a few days ago and told me the same thing,” Sansa said. “It's just that I know Cersei and what motivates her and … I will believe that truce only when her army arrives without attacking any of us.”

Jon frowned, realising it wasn't just Arya and Bran who had been so changed by the passing years. “Well, in this case, I hope you're wrong.”

“As do I.” Sansa sighed and turned her attention to Daenerys. “Winterfell is truly grateful for your help during these troubled times, but I can't help wondering what other concessions you wrested from my brother during these negotiations?”

Only the smallest tightening of the queen's jaw acknowledged the obvious lack of title given. “I needed few enough once I'd seen the army of the dead for myself, Lady Stark,” she replied. “But, ultimately, I agreed to commit my forces to the north to defeat the Night King on the understanding that, afterwards, Lord Stark would support my claim to the Iron Throne over Cersei's.”

“Lord _Stark_?” Sansa asked.

Dany nodded. “It seems a more appropriate name given the circumstances.”

There was a moment of confused silence before Bran said, “You need to tell her, Jon.”

He sighed loudly. “Yes, I know.”

Sansa looked between them, frowning. “This is about why Arya went south to meet with you? Bran only told us he had urgent news which could not be sent by raven.”

“Yes,” Jon replied. “Samwell came to see me to tell me who my parents were.”

“Parents?” She frowned. “Your mother, you mean?”

He shook his head. “No … I'm not your brother, Sansa. Not by blood at least. I am ... Lyanna's son, not Ned's.”

“What?” Sansa turned to Bran.

“It's true,” their brother said. “I have seen everything that happened but it was only right that Jon found out first.”

“But, Lyanna …? Then who is …?” Sansa paused, her eyes widening as her mind took the obvious next step. She gaped, looking between him and Daenerys and shaking her head. “Rhaegar?”

Jon frowned. “Apparently.”

“Definitely,” Bran said. “I saw your parents' marriage and your birth and Lyanna was only ever with Rhaegar.”

“Marriage?” Sansa said. “But … he kidnapped and raped her.”

“No, that was never true,” Bran continued. “Jon is not a bastard. He was born Aegon Targaryen and is therefore the true heir to the Iron Throne.”

“No,” Jon disagreed as Dany quietly scoffed next to him. “I am no more King Aegon than you are Lord Brandon. I have been persuaded to accept my mother's name in the short term, but am now pledged to Queen Daenerys. She is the more worthy heir and, as Sam pointed out, there is no hard evidence to put to the lords of Westeros anyway.”

“But there _is_ proof,” Bran disagreed. “And you know exactly where to find it, Jon.”

The quiet comment sent a chill through him and he ground his teeth together, looking down at the floor and refusing to even entertain that idea.

“No,” he replied eventually, “and it's not even necessary because ...” He looked over at Daenerys who gave him an encouraging smile. “That was the final part of our negotiations, you see. Our alliance is not entirely military. The queen and I will also be joining our two Houses through marriage.”

Sansa didn't seem as surprised by _this_ announcement, but then Arya had already told him that their sister had suspected such a union. A marriage between aunt and nephew may be viewed nervously in the south but the old gods had rather more relaxed views on a number of things; another reason he wanted them married here. There was a long pause before Sansa nodded.

“And what of the north? What of Winterfell?” she asked.

“It will be yours,” Jon confirmed.

“As for what that will mean in terms of leadership it is rather too early to tell,” Daenerys said. “If the Night King wins then none of this matters anyway and if _we_ win then Cersei still needs defeating. Even if we accomplish all of that I imagine Westeros will be in sorry state afterwards and that may require us to look at an entirely different way to govern the realm. Jon has helped me re-examine my priorities and so … I shall not _force_ my claim on the north, Lady Stark, rather I ask you to accept this alliance in the short term and promise to keep an open mind when it comes to deciding the best future for all our people once this war is done.”

Jon's heart was pounding from both excitement and nerves. _This_ was the Daenerys he had fallen in love with and the queen all her people had rallied around in Essos, and he hoped that Sansa would see it rather more quickly than he had. The pause seemed to go on for ages but, once his sister had turned to Bran, and the young man had nodded, Jon knew that they had negotiated the first hurdle. His brother may be very much changed but it was also clear that he was fully on their side.

“Very well,” Sansa said. “I agree to your terms … your Grace.” She sighed, looking down at a number of raven scrolls scattered on the desk next to her. “It looks like the two of you have been busy these last few days?”

“We have,” Jon confirmed. “You've received word from Lord Umber?”

“Yes, and he confirmed what Bran had already told me - that the Wall has fallen at Eastwatch.”

He nodded. “Daenerys and I have seen it with our own eyes. The Night King and his army are heading south towards Last Hearth as we speak.”

“And Bran says he flies on a dragon?”

Dany dropped her head and Jon resisted the urge to move closer to her. “Unfortunately he k-killed one when we went north,” the queen replied. “Viserion is part of his army now.”

“I'm sorry,” Sansa said, looking at the queen more closely, her expression briefly softening. “And _you_ now ride one, Jon? I didn't truly believe that before but I suppose it makes sense given who your father was?”

“Yes, I felt a connection to the dragons even before I knew but, once I received Bran's news, it was worth seeing if I'd be accepted.”

“A dragon is safer with a rider on his back,” Dany confirmed. “Something Viserion did not have before, and we're using these flights to prepare for the final battle as well as evacuate those still living in their path. By the time my army arrives, we should have plans of attack and defence well in place.”

Sansa suggested they met with the Lords next but Jon explained the unofficial nature of this visit and asked her to wait until the queen's army arrived in a few days time. When they were offered food and rest, Jon was keen to accept the former and Dany the latter and so he and Sansa escorted the queen to the largest guest room within the main keep itself, where Jon left her with little more than a gentle smile and instructions to lock the door.

“This is not to be a purely political marriage is it, Jon?” Sansa asked as they made their way down the steps towards the courtyard. “I believe you love her.”

He looked at her knowing expression and nodded. “With all my heart.”

“And she feels the same way, I think.”

He couldn't help but smile at that, pleased not to have to act in front of his sister, at least. “I intend us to marry in the Godswood just as soon as everyone arrives here officially. There's no time for anything fancy but I equally don't wish to delay. Who knows what will happen in the weeks and months to come.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

“Where's Ghost? Do you know?”

“In his kennels. Sometimes he's gone for days at a time but he returned just yesterday. I think he must have known you were on your way.”

Jon smiled broadly. “Good. I've missed him.”

The direwolf came over to him instantly, ears pricked and tail high. Jon barely needed to bend down now in order to throw his arms around his neck and he smiled as the wolf snuffled loudly in his hair.

“I'm sorry I've been away so long, boy,” he said, looking down curiously as the wolf continued to sniff at him far more than usual, perhaps confused by the smell of dragon. “We could head off to the Godswood for a while and there I can tell you and the old gods what has happened to me since I left here.”

Ghost lifted his head and tipped it curiously before very suddenly turning around and padding off in the direction Jon had just come from, leaving him in no doubt of the wolf's feelings on the matter.

“Nice to see you again too,” he called out, laughing. He'd long since accepted that he could never fully be part of his direwolf's life, no matter how strong their unique bond was. “I'll go visit the gods on my own then.”

Jon dropped his head and walked quickly, determined to avoid any questions until after he'd enjoyed this short break. His route inevitably took him past the entrance to the crypts and he paused, eyeing the dark space nervously and feeling the usual cold, unnatural chill run up and down his spine. “No,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head and striding away quickly before the temptation got the better of him. “It's not important.”

There were times during the last few years where he'd started to question his long-held beliefs but, after everything he'd learnt recently, he was in urgent need of the peace and quiet that his father's … no, his mother's ... gods could give him. ' _My mother .._ _'_ _._ He sighed, still struggling to reconcile the news after so many years of wondering who she was. Then he thought about his Targaryen half, trying to recall something about the religion of Valyria, but all that came to mind was a quote he'd once read. _'_ _The dragonlords_ _had_ _no gods but themselves.'_ He winced at the thought.

“I am of the north,” he said, kneeling before the great weirwood tree and bowing his head. “I am a Stark of Winterfell and I keep the old gods.” And there he remained for some time, worshipping in the old way; reflecting, contemplating and trying to accept himself as merely one small part of the nature around him. “I am of the north.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all your kind words and support. The stats on this fic are truly staggering. 
> 
> Up until last weekend, the ending of this story had been typically vague, which was making me nervous. Fortunately though, I managed to sort our a number of issues and plan things out in more detail, which now confirms that I can keep up with these once-a-week updates for you. :)


	11. Chapter 11

Daenerys sat in front of the bronze mirror at the table in her war pavilion, slowly untying the numerous messy plaits in her hair and humming to herself as she recalled the night before and all the different ways she and Jon had made love. She smirked as she remembered his frustration during the 'punishment' and shuddered in delight at the thought of his expressive, dark eyes gazing at her afterwards. And then there was the way he had turned wolf at her command, somehow managing to be wild and aggressive whilst also making sure her needs were more than satisfied.

“Dany?” Jon voice sounded even deeper than usual, husky with sleep. She could no longer recall why she had ever disliked that name.

“I'm here, my love.”

He stretched. “It's still early. Come back to bed.”

“And why would I want to do that?” she asked, throwing a teasing smile his way. “Missandei is coming to help braid my hair soon so that I can look my best for your brother and sister.

His cousins, in truth, but Jon had made it clear that he preferred to keep his old relationships intact in his mind.

“Can I help?” he asked.

“What? Help braid my hair?”

He laughed, getting out of bed naked and rushing to wrap his cloak around himself before approaching her.

“I meant with the untying.” He moved closer and started to undo one of her plaits and she shuddered as his fingers brushed the nape of her neck. Her hand had reached behind her chair and was half way up his bare thigh before she'd even realised it. “If you keep that up, Missandei will be getting rather more than she expected when she arrives,” he warned.

“You're right, of course,” she replied with a giggle, reluctantly removing her hand.

She picked up her brush but Jon took it from her, slowly running it through her hair where he'd untied the plait and she sighed loudly, delighted and constantly surprised at how gentle this hardened warrior could be.

“I love your hair loose like this,” he said.

“And I like yours the same way but … not always practical, as you said.”

“I complained to Davos about mine the other day,” he admitted, “and told him that I was debating cutting it short.”

She snapped her head around to glare at him. “Don't you dare!”

“It would be a lot easier.”

She smirked. “Did you enjoy your punishment _so_ much last night that you wish to repeat it?”

He winced. “No, my queen.”

“Good. Sit then, and let me brush _your_ hair.”

She stood and offered the chair to him, enjoying the brief flash of his naked body showing under his cloak. As she started to run her fingers through his dark curls she quickly encountered tangles and replaced the soft brush with a comb so she could get serious.

“Don't you ever brush this?” she complained as she tried to work the comb through without pulling his hair.

“Yes but … ow ... sometimes I think it manages to tangle itself. I brush it through before tying it back and then, when I untie it, it's all tangled again.”

She scoffed at that, knowing that he simply wasn't brushing it properly and making sure she worked out every single knot. Once she'd finally combed it all through, she picked up a small tie and started to play with it, lifting a few strands and trying to recall Viserys' style; similar to the way Jon had been wearing it yesterday but yet ...

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I may need help with _my_ hair but I'm perfectly capable of styling yours. Hold still.”

“You better not be doing what I _think_ you're doing.”

“What? As you said, it's a common enough style amongst northerners and your dark hair and beard won't make it that obvious anyway.”

“All the same ...”

“Unless you fancy shaving?” she suggested. “Targaryen men rarely wore beards.”

“No.” He replied abruptly.

“Shame. It's scratchy.”

He shook his head. “Don't believe you. Not seeing how much you stroke and pull at it when we're in bed together.”

“Be quiet, wolf! There, that looks much better. Now you'd better get dressed before Missandei arrives. Over on that wooden chest, there’s a new quilted jacket for you. It should work well for today for both flying, warmth and style.”

“You're dressing me now too?” he asked, moving over to pick the garment up and glaring at his suspiciously. She had had it made to reflect his Stark heritage - grey wolves clearly on display - but couldn't resist adding the smallest amount of red, Targaryen embroidery too. “Is this wise?” Jon asked as he noticed it.

“It's only on the parts which will be covered by your cloak.”

“All the same.”

“When are you going to tell everyone, Jon?”

He shook his head. “Sansa needs to know first.”

“And are you telling _her_ today?”

“Perhaps, but you heard what Sam said. The Lords will need harder evidence to convince them and there's no real reason why it even matters if I'm marrying you anyway.”

“Wear it as my intended then,” Dany said. “If we can't prove your Targaryen legitimacy then we can't prove your Stark name either. As long as it remains unofficial you can claim either … both ... through me. So, this is my gift to you to legitimise you as a Stark and to bring you under the protection of House Targaryen.” He frowned, giving her a curt nod and dressing without further complaint before coming over to her as he tied his cloak around himself. “Very handsome,” she declared as she kissed him on the lips. “Even more handsome than usual.”

He grabbed her around the waist then, kissing her passionately as he pulled her close against his body and, as usual, she melted at his touch. Inevitably, though, the pair found it hard to end what they started and it was only Missandei's soft cough that brought them out of their own little world.

Jon reluctantly released her and stepped back, looking at his boots. “Ah, I'll see you soon,” he said, giving Missandei an apologetic smile as he left the tent.

“You look positively glowing,” her friend teased as she reached for the brush and ties.

Dany sighed loudly. “He just makes me feel _so_ good.”

Missandei smiled. “I noticed and … I understand how that feels. I really am very happy for you.”

~o~0~o~

Daenerys felt the meeting with Sansa and Brandon Stark had gone as well as they could have expected. Jon had never said anything bad about the elder of his sisters but it was easy to get some idea of his feelings simply from what he _hadn't_ said, and all the stories of his childhood were of Robb, Arya and Bran with Sansa rarely mentioned at all. Having Bran there today had made all the difference though. The young man in the chair seemed a very different person to the boy Jon had described, and Dany could see how confused he was about the change in his brother, but Bran knew things and had obviously confirmed much of their news before they had arrived and that, in turn, had helped to convince Sansa.

Jon and his sister had shown Daenerys to her room so that she could rest for a little while and, once they'd left, she walked around the bleak, grey space slowly, understanding that it would be hers for the duration of the war. That might not be for very long, of course. and could even end up being her very last bedroom if it all went badly. She sighed, feeling weary again, and hoping that she'd be able to close her eyes for a short time without being bothered by her usual ice-blue nightmares.

She had only just started to doze when she heard a strange, insistent scratching and was immediately alert, sitting up and looking down at the floor. ' _Rats?_ _'_ Then she heard it again, over by the door. Should she be worried? Jon had been concerned as they were crossing the courtyard - his hand constantly twitching as if debating grabbing Longclaw and challenging the whole castle for daring to stare at her - and Jorah had feared assassins in the north …

She got out of bed quietly, picking up a sturdy candlestick and edging towards the locked door.

“Yes?” she asked, listening to the sounds outside and trying to work out what was unusual about them. Finally impatience and an odd instinct took over and she turned the key, suddenly deciding that she was in no danger at all. As she pulled the door slightly ajar it was pushed from the other side and Daenerys yelped, lifting the candlestick in defence, only to be confronted by an immense amount of white fur and two piercing red eyes.

Jon's description could not possibly have prepared her for the size of him. “Y-you must be Ghost,” she said.

The direwolf contemplated her for a while before edging closer and she raised her hand for him to sniff, trying to work out what felt so familiar about this interaction. When she lowered her hand, Ghost moved closer still, sniffing at her legs, her waist, her chest and then lifting his head until it was almost level with her own before suddenly, and very unexpectedly, licking her face.

“Why are you here?” she asked, giggling. “I suppose Jon sent you to protect me?” But that didn't seem right as she was sure he would have come along to help with such a potentially dangerous introduction. Although that still made more sense than the direwolf coming here by his own volition. “I suppose I must have a little of your master's scent on me.” She grinned. “Well, probably more than a little.”

Ghost lowered his head and snuffled at her once more before headed straight for the bed, jumping up on it and then lying down, staring at her with mournful, red eyes.

“Oh, _now_ I see where Jon gets it from,” Dany said, laughing loudly. “Comes knocking on the queen's door with no explanation, kisses her and then hops straight into her bed. It's obviously a wolf thing.”

She walked over and squeezed onto the small amount of bed which was now free. “Hopefully you're also good at keeping my nightmares at bay.” And she wriggled up against Ghost's soft, white coat and quickly fell asleep.

~o~0~o~

Daenerys was woken some time later when Ghost moved slightly and she rolled onto her back, stretching, as she attempted to get her bearings.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing here?” Jon said, and she opened her eyes to see him standing at the foot of the bed and glaring at his direwolf. “Get down.”

Ghost instead moved even closer to her, lowering his large head onto her abdomen with his mournful look now turned on Jon, and she giggled, reaching out a hand to stroke the fur behind the wolf's ear.

“Oh, you think it's funny do you, Dany?” Jon asked her as he moved around to her side. “I come here to escort my betrothed downstairs only to find her in bed with my best friend.”

She giggled again. “I assumed you must have sent him here.”

“I did not and I've no idea how he managed to get up here or why he would even _think_ to look for you.” Jon tried to sit on the edge of the bed but there was no room and so, grumbling, knelt down on the floor next to her. “ And I thought I told _you_ to keep the door locked.”

She sat up and stretched. “Hardly necessary with such a devoted bodyguard. She turned her head to accept Jon's kiss and felt Ghost move, pulling away to see the direwolf now with his head tipped, watching them both curiously.

“She's my mate,” Jon explained to him, “but then I think you've already worked that out.” He turned back to her with a shy smile. “Looks like Ghost has happily accepted you as a member of our pack.”

“They have an excellent sense of smell, I think? He was really snuffling at me so I'm sure he could smell your scent on me.”

“Yes, he was the same with me earlier but I thought at the time it was the dragons he was reacting to. Apparently he was curious about what he could smell and decided to track you.” He gave her another gentle kiss. “Anyway, I've just visited the armoury and talked dragonglass with them.”

“So, we need to go down and help bring in the supplies?”

He nodded. “If you're feeling rested enough and if a certain someone will allow you to get up.” Ghost dropped his head back down onto her lap, turning his mournful look back towards Jon. “I'm so happy you approve, boy, honestly I am, but we really are on a tight schedule here.”

Finally the wolf hauled himself up and dropped to the floor - although he didn't look especially happy about it - and, after checking her clothes and hair weren’t too messed up, Daenerys walked out of the room, finding it especially difficult not to take Jon's arm as they headed downstairs. Ghost instantly followed, trotting happily between the pair and looking inordinately pleased with himself for some reason.

“Actually having him along will be helpful,” Jon said. “Should stop us being approached by certain northern lords and remind them to mind their manners.” He shook his head. “To my left though, Ghost. We're trying to keep our relationship a secret here.”

The wolf ignored him.

“Perhaps he's just trying to play chaperone,” she suggested.

“Or make sure he can protect both of us but, in this case, I'd rather have everyone see him as mine and not ours.”

Fortunately, by the time they'd reached the courtyard, Ghost had finally got the message and happily stalked in on Jon's left whilst Dany walked on his right. They still caused a stir though, a sudden silence descending as dark-haired Jon strode out with his white wolf on one side and the silver-haired queen on the other. Even the small points of red embroidery on her white coat served to emphasise the symmetry and Dany began to think that they may have drawn less attention if Ghost had been in the middle, after all.

_'Well, we had wanted to make an impression'._

“It went well.” Jon's reply to Tryion that evening was typically understated. “We had to work quite hard to keep a low profile but I really only needed to talk to my sister and the armourers today.”

“And?” Tyrion asked.

“Sansa ultimately agreed to Daenerys' proposal; accepting her support whilst promising to keep an open mind if … when we get through this. After that we had the dragonglass supplies taken into Winterfell's armoury along with instructions for creating more daggers for the war and ensuring that every single person carries one with them at all times.”

“Any further news on the lost Valyrian weapons?” Jorah asked him.

“Unfortunately not. We currently only have four blades: My Longclaw, Brienne's Oathkeeper, Sam's Heartsbane and Arya's Catspaw dagger. If the Lannister army makes it up in time we may have Jaime Lannister's sword too.”

“But can we guarantee that all of them are ours to command directly?” Tryion asked. “Their owners will be inevitably attached to them and yet may not be the best people to wield them.”

“I'm certainly not,” Sam admitted. “Ser Jorah can use Heartsbane … or Clegane perhaps?” He shrugged. “Whomever it will serve best.”

“And Jaime was one of the best fighters in the realm … _when_ he had his right hand,” Tyrion admitted. “Now though …?”

“Something to discuss further when we're all at Winterfell,” Jon said. “Dragonglass blades will also destroy the White Walkers but the material is too brittle to make into swords. All we're going to have are arrows and daggers which may be too short to be effective.”

“Maybe not,” Sam mumbled.

Jon turned to his friend. “Oh, have you and Gendry discovered something?”

“We have ... a theory but it will need testing.”

“Whatever you need, of course,” Jon said.

He winced. “Ah … a dragon perhaps? When you can spare one.”

Dany gaped at him. “Sorry?” On the other side of the table Arya chuckled slightly.

“It looks like … we think … that dragon fire should be hot enough to melt the obsidian,” Sam explained, “and then, if we're lucky, and _if_ we can find a crucible that won't also melt, we might be able to fashion longer and stronger blades with it.”

Jon turned to give Dany a questioning look and she shrugged in response. “There's no fire hotter, it's true, and we are on a fairly tight flying schedule but ...” She in turn threw the silent question back at Jon.

“We can at least try it briefly before we leave tomorrow,” he replied, nodding. “Even if it's just one blast on a chunk of dragonglass to see if the theory is sound. Give the crew something to look at and analyse and then we can try again each evening or morning depending on the results?” He sighed. “I just wish we'd started looking into all of this a year ago.”

With plans laid down for the following day, the meeting broke up and Dany merely glanced at Jon, one eyebrow raised, knowing he'd understand her silent request. She no longer felt comfortable spending the night time alone and had no desire to follow Tyrion's suggestion about their sleeping arrangements any more. It seemed Jon felt just as unconcerned, because she'd barely set foot in her pavilion when he entered behind her and the noise outside proved that there had been little chance his entrance would have gone unnoticed.

“Sorry,” he said, striding over to her with no hint of apology in his tone. “You've just looked so damn edible all day and it's been driving me crazy.”

“Jon ...” she gasped as he pulled her close, her heart pounding as she saw how dark his eyes had become. How much desire she saw there. “Haven't you been eating enough these last few days?”

“I'm riding dragons day _and_ night,” he replied, his eyes sparkling. “It's hungry work.”

“Yes, but you're not supposed to be eating them.”

“I want to ...” he said, moving temptingly closer. “I want to eat _you_.”

She was the one to move first, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him so thoroughly that he growled in response, lifting her up by her waist as she wrapped her legs around him and wriggled against him temptingly. Jon half walked, half staggered towards the bed in this position, before throwing her onto the flimsy camp bed, which protested such treatment by creaking ominously. He quickly undid his new jacket whilst she removed her coat, only just managing to move it to one side before he pounced, grabbing her ankles and pulling her to the edge of the bed where he quickly removed her lower layers. She knew what he wanted to do. Could see it in his eyes and in the way he was almost salivating in anticipation.

“Jon!” She really should try to be quiet, but he had pulled her ankles wide and dived in-between her thighs so quickly that she had little time to prepare for the onslaught of sensation.

“Gods how are you so ready for me so soon?” he mumbled, pulling away only briefly before dropping his head back down for more.

“I'm not the only one who's been looking edible all day. Oh… yes!” Although even _sh_ e was surprised at just how quickly she released, her whole body shaking almost as soon as he'd placed his tongue back on her.

Jon looked up grinning smugly. “That's got to be a record. How many times would you like to come undone tonight, my queen? Ten? Twenty?”

“I won't survive that many,” she gasped, laughing. “And, anyway, I want to eat you too.”

“All in good time,” he said, bending down to devour her again.

They didn't trust the bed after her second release - Jon pulling her and the furs onto the floor in one go - and Daenerys initially thought he'd given up on his plan when he untied his trousers just enough to be able to enter her hard and fast. “Yes ...” she gasped, happily settling herself into position for the ride, but Jon had other ideas, pulling out almost immediately and then laughing as she cursed him. She wasn't going to let his strength stop her though, constantly fighting to ensure she got him fully undressed and managing to nip him in a few of her favourite places in the process.

It never got boring, she realised, and they never knew from one night to the next how their love making would turn out; sometimes slow and loving, sometimes teasing, sometimes quick and rough or, like tonight, a constant play fight; both battling for dominance, tickling, biting and driving each other crazy. Each time Daenerys would decide that this was her absolutely favourite way and then, the next, she'd change her mind yet again.

“Three ...” Jon said, smugly, as she and Drogon cried out yet again.

She spun quickly, rolling herself around and on top of him so she could take him in her mouth, pinning his hips with her hands and working him roughly with her tongue, determined to mess up his count. She didn’t think she would have the strength to keep him there for long but Jon fought back in a different way, moving her whole body on top of his so they were both lying head to groin, and quickly working her again with both fingers and tongue.

“Alright,” he said soon after, laughing as he wriggled out from under her. “Just six times then.”

“That … that was only four,” she gasped. _Only ..._

Jon lay down on his back on the furs, arms held wide. “Then come ride me, my little dragon, and let's see which one of us wins the count.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was the meeting everyone seemed to want and I really enjoyed writing it. I've been impatient to share the art with you. I started writing this chapter some time ago and the image jumped out at me so clearly I just knew I had to draw it.
> 
> I had an amazing week of writing and am now well ahead. Lots of dramatic/romantic/sexy stuff to come. Looks like this fic will be coming in at 19 or 20 chapters?


	12. Chapter 12

The snow was falling heavily as Daenerys’ army approached Winterfell in the permanent pre-dawn gloom that now lasted most of the day. The strange light was made all the more eerie by the black cloud and distant orange glow from the forest fires the dragons had been starting and relighting over the past week, and any relief the party felt at finally reaching their destination was over-ridden by all of this cold, dark bleakness.

As they rode their horses through the outer gatehouse, Jon battled with the odd feeling of deja vu as the memory of another Royal visit intruded; one which had started such devastating events in motion. Back then he'd had little standing here, relegated to the second line with Theon, watching as King Robert had dismounted his horse and walked forwards to meet all the _important_ members of the Stark family. A very different scenario to this one.

The warm, summer image was dispelled as soon as they entered the courtyard and encountered snow piled up in thick drifts, their horses having to tread cautiously to negotiate the icy patches. There was a welcoming party to greet them but the contrast to the previous royal visit was striking; these figures all bundled up in dark furs and their mood sombre. Acutely aware of the rise in tension, Jon moved his horse a little closer to Daenerys and noticed Ser Jorah do the same, and he had little doubt that the knight's hand was on the sword hilt under his cloak just as his was.

He dismounted and looked briefly to the queen, but she needed no assistance; an even better horse rider than he was, in truth, thanks to her years spent with the Dothraki. The group walked forward in an arrow formation, Jon slightly in front of Dany with Jorah on her left whilst Tyrion and Davos kept to Jon's right. On cue the two dragons flew silently over head, causing enough of a spectacle to gain everyone's attention but not quite enough to be considered threatening.

Sansa moved forwards then, her bright smile a little forced as she raised her voice to the assembled crowd. “I welcome you all to Winterfell, honoured guests. Come, let us take shelter from the snows and I will offer you bread and salt at our table. Let everyone here know that the Starks will _always_ honour Guest Right in the sight of the old gods and the new.

 _'Well played, Sansa,'_ Jon thought, approvingly, as the party followed her inside.

The Great Hall was packed as they entered, with platters offered just as soon as they had crossed the threshold. Sansa repeated her words of welcome to the assembled lords but just as quickly announced that an urgent small council meeting needed to be held first.

“Eat, drink ...” she told those who would be staying behind, keen to quieten their grumbles. “It's important that we have all the news and facts at our disposal when we come back down here later.”

“Gods,” Jon whispered, as they headed out of the internal door at the back of the Hall. “Dealing with dragons is less nerve-racking.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tyrion muttered.

“This is a _small_ council meeting?” Davos asked, as more and more people filed into the modest sized meeting room.

“Not the right name, perhaps,” Sansa conceded, “But I believe the attendance of everyone here has been requested?”

“Yeah, I want a word with you, Snow,” a loud, gruff voice called out. “Who's bright idea was it to leave us up at Eastwatch anyway?”

“Tormund!” Jon grinned broadly, moving quickly to embrace the Wildling. “I was afraid you'd perished when the Wall came down.”

“So did I. The gods were gracious to Beric and I that day.”

“And Edd. You're here too?”

“Not much point us staying up at Castle Black now, apparently,” he replied. “There were few enough of us left anyway but we got the message from Last Hearth and rode down here as fast as we were able.”

Jon nodded. “This is where we all need to be, it's true.”

Daenerys had Tryion, Jorah, Missandei, Varys and the military leaders of her Unsullied and Dothraki here to support her. Sansa had Brienne and her squire along with Arya, Bran and the Winterfell master-at-arms, whilst Jon had invited Gendry and Sam to talk about their findings on the weapons. Davos, Tormund, Edd, Beric and the Hound completed the group. Twenty-one in total. Sansa was right in saying that everyone here needed to know about their political and military news, but Jon knew what else was on the agenda today and was definitely not comfortable about sharing _that_ information with so many people.

He tried not to dwell on that, however, quickly started the meeting, introducing everyone and explaining their vital contribution to the discussions before launching into the most up-to-date news they'd gained from their recent flights north.

“Our scouting yesterday showed that those from Last Hearth have reached the south-east edge of Long Lake,” he said, pointing to the map. “The enemy are moving more rapidly - now to the west of Last Hearth - but the refugees should be safe here in another two or three days.”

“Will that be soon enough?” Sansa asked.

“Hopefully. We may need to send men to meet and escort the stragglers in, and the queen and I will probably be burning the forest around the lake before that in any case. We'll also need to fly east and check on the progress of the extra troops and supplies that Lady Karstark pledged to us.”

“And then we just wait?” asked the master at arms, “Or do we ride out to attack?”

“We'll ride out in the next day or two,” Jon confirmed. “Beyond the Wall we discovered that killing the White Walkers takes out the wights they turned and so we'll need to meet the army with a carefully choreographed plan: Dragon fire to deal with the wights and Valyrian blades to attack the White Walkers. We need a small group of the very best fighters armed with those blades, as standard swords will simply shatter.” He pulled a face. “It won't be easy but we will need to work out how to get through the wights as attacking the White Walkers is the best chance we have against such huge numbers.”

“And the Night King?” Tormund asked.

“Valyrian Steel should work for him and dragon fire _should_ work for Viserion,” Dany replied, quietly.

“Should?” he asked.

She shrugged. “From what we can tell, Viserion is a wight now. Raised from the dead rather than a White Walker which would be far harder to destroy. However, he is still a dragon and that is going to make it considerably more challenging.”

“I'd originally thought to face the Night King on the ground with Longclaw,” Jon told them. “But him being on dragon back has changed that plan. Now I'm of most use on Rhaegal and that means rethinking our tactics.”

“Do we have any news on the Lannister forces?” Daenerys asked once all those points had been discussed.

“None,” Sansa replied. “You know I'm sceptical about the so-called southern truce you brokered, but the snows here mean that few messages get through nowadays, so the lack of news means very little.”

“A flight south is in order, perhaps?” Varys suggested. “Little birds and ravens might struggle with this weather but dragons should have no such problems.”

Jon looked at Dany who shrugged. “If we've heard nothing in the next day or two then, yes … that's probably a good idea,” she agreed.

The conversation now turned to their own alliance. A trickier subject, even though everyone here would likely be more receptive to the news than the northern lords. Sansa took over here, explaining that she had agreed to Queen Daenerys' request; a full and open alliance to deal with the Night King on the understanding that the north would not forget such help when it came to dealing with the Iron Throne later on.

“But Jon Snow has openly pledged himself to Daenerys,” Brienne said. “He did so in front of Cersei and … everyone in Kingslanding. He gave up his kingship to become Warden and yet … Lady Sansa now speaks for Winterfell and talks of a softer alliance?” Numerous eyes turned to her and the tall woman shrugged. “I just feel as if we're missing something here.”

“You'll forgive me if my reasoning seems … unusual,” Jon said. “I have reluctantly accepted powerful positions in the past because they helped with my ultimate goal; to have the realm acknowledge the threat from the Night King and put together a force which may be able to defeat him. And that is _still_ my main aim and I will do everything I can to see it achieved. Right now, whether I'm Jon Snow, Jon Stark, King in the North or Warden of the North is frankly irrelevant and all I need is the promise that everyone here will do everything they can to tackle this more urgent threat. Whilst in Dragonstone it became obvious that having the queen on side was more important than my kingship but now, with both her and Sansa understanding my motivation, getting the northern lords on side is key. As such, the alliance that Sansa struck with Daenerys is more useful to us than the one I struck at Dragonstone.”

“But will they accept this alliance any better?” Tryion asked him.

“There's no time for them _not_ to,” Jon snapped. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but we have people fleeing here for their lives as we speak. Death marches on us all and who rules at Winterfell and Kingslanding is really not important right now.”

“Others may not agree,” Bran said. “And you need to tell everyone here the _full_ truth, Jon. And the lords too.”

“No,” Jon replied. “Not them. Not now. We have to have them fully on our side and, for that, they need to accept me as Snow or Stark.”

“What are we talking about now?” Tyrion asked, frowning. “The northerners already _have_ accepted you as such, have they not? Why else would they have named you their king?”

“I ...” Jon looked at all the eyes on him and blanched, realising there was no going back now and feeling fearful about revealing the truth, even to such a friendly group.

“They _have_ to know, Jon,” Dany said, kindly. “We cannot be a true alliance if we do not have all the facts.”

He nodded and took a deep breath. “Bran did have a vision about the fall of the Wall,” he began, “but that wasn't the only reason he sent Sam to meet me at White Harbor. He sent him there so that I could learn of my parentage and Eddard Stark's greatest secret.”

“What secret would your father have?” Varys asked, before adding. “The identity of your mother?”

“He … he was not my father.” It was such a difficult line to utter. “He promised my mother ... his sister, that he would keep me safe. He promised her that he would raise me as his own.”

“Lyanna?” Tryion asked, his voice a mere whisper.

Jon nodded, his head still down. Was there any here who did not know the story of the tourney of Harrenhal and the crown of winter roses? Surely they could all figure it out by themselves, because the truth was weighing heavier on him now than it had a week ago when he'd first heard it.

A few gasps seemed to confirm that some had already taken the logical next step and Jon looked up in surprised as he heard the sound of rapidly approaching soft footsteps. Varys was now shuffling forwards, hands tucked into his clothes, with a intense look of concentration on his face, until he was suddenly, uncomfortably close, peering at Jon's face.

“Rhaegar?” he asked quietly. “Yes … I suppose I can see that.” He smiled slyly then. “Actually it makes a great deal of sense now I come to think about it.”

“You knew him?” Jon asked, slightly awed.

Varys nodded. “I did.”

“You were thinking of not telling us this?” Tyrion said. “Something _this_ important?”

Jon shrugged. “It would avoid a lot of awkward questions and complicated politics. I'd rather go with the idea of the King in the North forming an alliance with the rightful Targaryen Queen. It's a lot less messy.”

“I can understand why Jon is still struggling to come to terms with this,” Sam said, “even after a week of knowing the truth but, if it's important you have _all_ the facts, it's also important that you know the rest.”

Jon groaned loudly. He wanted to shout that it didn't matter to anyone but him. He wanted to ask them all to pretend they'd never heard it. He desperately wanted, to his horror, for everyone to start calling him Jon Snow again. Someone calling him a bastard right now would be a comfort compared to this.

“You tell them then, Sam,” he grumbled. “I've done more than enough talking as it is.”

He let his mind wander, not having the strength to look at anyone's reaction to the news of his royal claim. Why _did_ this feel harder to deal with than when he'd first learnt of it? Perhaps because it had been easier to ignore when only a few others knew? Before today, that select group had kept his secret but now …? Now it was out in the open and he would no longer be able to deny it. Now it was actually real.

“Jon?” He looked up with a wince, having completely missed Edd's question. “You're the rightful heir to the Iron Throne?”

“No,” he replied, stubbornly.

“You are,” Bran pushed. “And you know where to find the evidence to prove it.”

“I am pledged to Queen Daenerys,” Jon insisted, “and so this does not change a thing.”

“It changes _everything_ ,” Tyrion disagreed.

“No, it's as I said before, everything I've done has been to unite the north and then the realm to our common cause. That is done - near enough - and so what use is the Iron Throne to me now? Why does the realm need yet another monarch when we're about to fight the biggest battle of our lives? We need to put aside all thoughts of kings and queens and which one of us is better than the other and fight ... together.”

There were more comments, more questions, voices raised as each put their point forwards. On and on it went until Jon could stand it no longer.

“Enough! I said I would tell you and I have!” He glared as the room felt abruptly silent. “And now you know … for all the good it does any of us. There are those who won't believe me and say that I've no hard evidence ...” He turned a glare at Bran before his brother could interrupt. “And I have no desire to find any. The lords are even less likely to follow me if they know I have Targaryen blood and let's not even get started on how Cersei will react to yet another threat to her iron rule. Right here, right now, we have a war to fight and my parentage makes absolutely no difference to that … unless you all want to get me _so_ riled up that I'll be quite unable to focus on strategy or fighting?”

The stunned silence was only interrupted by Varys' quiet chuckle and the eunuch raised his hands defensively as Jon turned a glare on him. “My apologies … your Grace … but that little speech has given me all the evidence I require. A dark-haired, dark-eyed Rhaegar stands before us, speaking in his voice and with his grim fervour. I personally need no further convincing.”

Jon clenched his hands into fists, battling a whole host of confusing emotions.

“Some of us have known this for a while,” Daenerys said then, her eyes silently urging Jon to calm down and back off, whilst her words offered him some space to do so. “And so we've had longer to absorb the news than the rest of you, but I have to agree that there is currently no need to talk about the Iron Throne other than in agreeing that Cersei is  _not_ the one who should be sitting on it. For now though, Lady Sansa, Lord Stark and I can, between us, command the respect of all those whose support we need and, with your counsel, can put the final touches to our battle plans.”

“And we need to go back into the Great Hall now, I think?” Sansa said. “The lords will be growing impatient.”

“Let them wait another hour,” Jon said, his voice a growl. “I need a break.” And he barged past everyone and headed out of the room, not giving anyone a chance to follow or dissuade him.

~o~0~o~

Just an hour. No more, no less. There was no time for any further sulking and probably, honestly, no time for even that, but Jon needed some space to allow his mind to calm and give himself a break from all the awed stares. ' _King Aegon.'_ He scoffed, striding confidently towards his old childhood room. _'Ridiculous.'_

Thank goodness he had learnt the news a week ago, he couldn't imagine how he would have reacted if he'd heard it for the first time in front of such a large audience. And he _had_ accepted it … mostly. Or perhaps it was as Dany had said last week. Perhaps he had just been so busy with dragons and evacuations that he simply hadn't had enough time to fully come to terms with it.

Then again, how long did one really need to accept that your whole life had been a lie?

Jon sat down at his desk as all these thoughts chased around his head, but it wasn’t long before he heard a scratching at the door and smiled at the familiar sound. Trust Ghost to sense his emotions and know exactly when he needed comforting. He got up to open the door, only to be left blinking as his direwolf barged in past him and Jon found himself face to face with Daenerys instead.

“I wanted to know where you had skulked off to,” she said, also pushing past him. “So I asked Ghost.”

“Traitor,” he mumbled at his wolf.

She folded her arms and glared at him. “I can understand why you wanted to get out of that room, Jon, but why exactly do you want to avoid me?”

He let out a loud sigh. “I don't, of course. I'm sorry, love.”

He held out his arms to emphasise the point and she stepped instantly into his embrace. He sighed again, this time through relief as he let his chin rest gently on the top of her head. A push against his back let him know that Ghost too was trying to offer his comfort.

“I'd suggest the bed,” he said soon after, “but this one's definitely not big enough for two, let alone three.”

“Bed? What _are_ you proposing, my lord?” she asked, cheekily.

He chuckled. “A more comfortable cuddle, nothing else.”

Daenerys looked around then, a small frown on her face. “Is this … is this your old room?”

He smiled. “Yes.”

“I would have expected something … a little grander?”

“Not for the bastard of Winterfell.” They exchanged a look, with no need to speak the thought that had entered both their minds then. _Definitely not a room for a king._

They settled down on the floor instead; Ghost lying against one of the walls whilst Jon and Dany leant against him and each other, their hands entwined. Here they stayed in silence for some time, with no need to discuss what had happened at the meeting. Jon had already spent numerous nights with her talking about his feelings on the matter and she had shared both her grief and stories of her old traumas. There were still much they didn't know about each other's lives but perhaps, with luck, they'd have many more years to explore such things. Either way …

“I have a question to ask you,” Jon said quietly. “I mean … it's not as if we've really talked about it other than just making assumptions, but now that we are actually here in Winterfell…?”

“What is it?” she asked, lifting her head to smile at him. “You know you can ask me anything.”

Suddenly the stress disappeared and, in that instant, there were no issues with kings and queens or dead armies and iron thrones, just him and her. Finally Jon was able to smile back at her in a way he would have thought impossible just half an hour ago.

“Daenerys Targaryen. Will you marry me?”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks you so much for your responses on Chapter 11 and to my art but then, who doesn't love a little Ghost/Dany interaction? The support I'm getting for this is wonderful. Thank you. I hope you enjoyed this chapter too. Despite it being a little Jonerys light, I really enjoyed writing that not-so-small council meeting and hope you enjoyed yet another reveal. One more of those to go! :P
> 
> I'm staying nicely ahead and, for me, the end is in sight which, for you, means guaranteed Sunday updates. I might increase these once I officially reach the end of the story but I also have a Modern AU in the works and, depending on this weekend's writing, might start getting that one out too. Keep an eye out for 'Here Be Dragons' a relatively light and short piece which is heavily focused on Jonerys.


	13. Chapter 13

“Daenerys Targaryen. Will you marry me?”

Dany blinked, completely thrown by the question, having only followed Jon here to offer comfort after that especially intense meeting. “But …?”

“I mean, I know you suggested it first but … you didn't exactly ask me properly and, anyway … I meant it more as … will you marry me tonight, under the Heart Tree, in the sight of the Old Gods?”

“Tonight? You don't want to wait until ...”

“No. I know Tyrion said we should judge the northern mood towards you first but, well, we're about to do just that and … what difference will that make anyway? Do you really want to wait until after this war when we might not even survive it?”

“No, I don't want to wait,” she replied. “I mean, yes, of _course_ I’ll marry you although, who will I be marrying?”

He gaped at her. “Me, I hope.”

“Yes, but I mean what name will you give? What House?”

“Oh …” He pulled a face. “You do realise I asked you so I could forget about all that, right?”

“Sorry.” But she couldn't help but smile at his reaction.

“It's perhaps fortunate that our ceremony is very much simpler than the southern one,” Jon replied, belatedly. “We're declaring ourselves in front of the Old Gods and so I suppose in that sense it doesn't matter. The Gods know our heart, they know who we are.” He sighed. “I just wish I could say the same.”

~o~0~o~

Together.

The advantage of Dany having gone to look for Jon was that they could stride into the Hall in much the same way as they'd walked the courtyard a few days ago; Ghost on Jon’s left and Daenerys on his right, making an impression. They took their seats at the High Table, joining Sansa, Bran, Arya and Tyrion, with most of the rest of their not-so-small-council members standing and sitting in front and to the side of them; showing their solidarity. Daenerys glanced at Jon often, concerned at how pale and stressed he looked and frankly nervous about how that might effect his temper. As she took her place alongside him she was able to see his jaw constantly clenching, an action which did little to reassure her. She suspected he was perfectly aware of the nervous glances the members of their earlier council were throwing his way - the awe on their faces after the news - and then it was her turn to glare, trying to quell the disquiet she felt at the thought of Jon's greater claim to the Iron Throne.

_'He doesn't want it. Not for himself_ _and you're marrying him later anyway. Then he'll be your king in a different way_ _.'_ That last thought finally allowed her to relax and smile shyly to herself.

“My lords, I apologise for the delay but there has been much to discuss,” Jon began. “As I'm sure you all know by now, the Wall has fallen at Eastwatch and large numbers of our fellow northmen flock here to shelter and to fight.” He held up his hand to quieten the Hall. “I went south to secure an alliance with Queen Daenerys, knowing the challenges we'd be facing, and am pleased to say I was successful and that she has agreed to join us; committing her large army and her dragons to our cause.”

“You expect us to bow to a Targaryen again?” a voice called out.

“I ask only that you fight,” he replied, the muscle in his jaw dancing again. “The dead come for us all and the best way to counter them is with dragon fire and dragonglass, both of which we now have on our side.”

Sansa stood then. “My lords, you know that I often questioned my brother's decisions when he was here last but I should tell you now that we have talked in detail about this alliance and I am perfectly satisfied with all aspects of it. Thanks to your king's efforts and Queen Daenerys' generosity, we now stand some chance of survival.”

Dany could not just sit quietly. She needed them to hear her and believe her and so she stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly, taking a deep breath as the Hall fell suddenly and nervously silent.

“I have seen the army of the dead, my lords. I flew above them and my dragons destroyed countless hundreds and yet, there were thousands more we could not touch. Your fight against this evil is now _my_ fight and I am here _only_ to help destroy the Night King and his army. To help defend the north initially and give assistance to your people afterwards.”

“This meeting is being held so that you can have all the information you need to make your own preparations for the Great War.” Jon spoke so soon after her that their first and last words had overlapped. He obviously didn't want to leave the even smallest gap to tempt someone to interrupt. “Our armourers will be working day and night to fashion weapons for everyone; not only those who are fighting but for every single person to carry on them at all times for self-defence. We will also need more volunteers to help dig and fill the large fire trenches we've started north of here which should help to slow the wights' progress.

A voice called out then, some grumble about Jon having given away the north.

“You misunderstand me, my lord,” he interrupted, his knuckles now white on the table in front of him. “This is a time of crisis and we are not here to discuss and debate the decisions that have already been made. If we lose this fight _everyone_ loses their lives. Do you understand? Then we really _will_ be giving the north away … to the Night King.” He raised his voice further. “'We are the shield that guards the realms of men.' That is part of the Night's Watch oath and it now falls to Winterfell to take on their duty. Those Black Brothers and Wildlings who survived now fight alongside us, as do many from the south and from Essos. Within this room we have people born from so many different places and backgrounds, all united against our _common_ enemy which is the Night King and his army. Only working together do we stand any chance of winning.”

Dany felt a surge of pride at his words. Jon so often appeared quiet, introverted and uncertain that she sometimes forgot his history. Forgot how his journey had mirrored hers and how he had also inspired so many others follow him despite all his disadvantages. He took a large, loud breath before ploughing on, not giving anyone a chance to fill that small gap.

“First we will discuss the weapons we have and how we plan to deploy them in the upcoming fight ...”

The talking continued. On and on with instructions and questions about tactics and weapons, training and soldiers. Dany could see Jon starting to flag and, fortunately, other members of the council did too, each taking their turn to step forward and keep the conversation on course. She spoke some more of their plans to scout on dragons tomorrow and how Drogon and Rhaegal would be used during the attack, whilst Tyrion, Ser Jorah and even Grey Worm discussed how they planned to assist the refugees and explained the timing of it all. And yet, still, various lords kept trying to turn the conversation around to her, their alliance and Cersei.

“We've no time for that!” Jon shouted, yet again. “Please can we focus on the _northern_ fight for now.”

A commotion at the back of the Hall seemed to offer a timely distraction, but perhaps not one that any of them had expected, as the doors opened to reveal a couple of guards, weapons drawn, escorting a tall, blonde man into the Hall.

“Jaime?” Tryion was on his feet in an instant. “What are you doing here?”

The knight shrugged as all eyes in the Hall turned to him.

“Ah … switching sides?” he replied with a bleak smile.

“It was my understanding that you were already on our side,” Sansa ventured as Jaime walked forwards, eyeing the northern lords nervously.

“I pledged my sword and army to your cause, yes. To fight the dead. Unfortunately, that army is considerably smaller than I’d hoped. Cersei, you see, had other plans.”

The look Sansa turned towards them quite clearly said 'I told you so' and now it was Daenerys' turn to grip the table in front of her, desperately trying to calm the rage that was building inside. Jon glanced her way and she took a deep breath, receiving his silent message loud and clear.

“She's moving to retake all of the south?” she asked, forcing herself to relax her grip.

“That is her intention, yes,” Jaime replied.

“And so you are here because …?”

“As I said … I pledged my sword to your cause and, contrary to popular belief, I do try to honour my oaths as much as I am able.”

The chorus of scoffs in the Hall was deafening and Daenerys could hardly blame them for their reaction. She looked over at Tyrion then who shrugged. “We should perhaps take this back to the Small Council?” her Hand suggested.

Then she looked to Jon who nodded, apparently pleased of the excuse to end this meeting. Before leaving, they promised the northern lords one last meeting here in the Great Hall the following morning, and then headed into the smaller meeting room with most of the earlier group in attendance.

As they entered, Daenerys headed straight to the map lying on the table, sighing as she thought of all the lands she had acquired now returning to Cersei. All that time wasted, all those lives lost. Others joined her but Jon did not, choosing instead to lean against a wall, his customary glower in place whilst his dark eyes scanned the room constantly. Seeing as he had lead the meeting in front of the northern lords, and that this group was far more accepting of her, Dany happily allowed him the break and took charge, with Tyrion and Varys also questioning the Kingslayer and trying to determine how his news would affect their grand plans. Jaime had managed to bring _some_ soldiers with him - men who had followed him personally and had also become disenchanted with Cersei's erratic requests - but it was a paltry amount compared to what they'd been promised and the news that the southern queen was preparing her troops to take back the territory she'd lost meant they would now have a far harder fight on their hands after the War. _'If we survive,'_ Dany thought, yet again.

“Before you all go,” Jon said as the impromptu meeting finally drew to a close, “May I have a word with my family, Daenerys, Sam, Davos, Tyrion, Missandei and Jorah, please?”

Everyone paused and a few frowned at the request before most continued out into the corridor.

“I was going to talk some more with my brother,” Tyrion said.

“I'm sure we can catch up later,” Jaime said. “A rest after that hard ride would be appreciated anyway.”

“I will escort Ser Jaime to his quarters if you like,” Brienne said. Most here now knew that the pair had travelled together and had history and the fact she had also sworn her sword to Sansa made her an ideal choice of guard for the less trustworthy Lannister.

Tryion frowned before nodding his agreement and, once all the others had all left the room, Jon turned to Daenerys, inviting her to explain.

“We chose not to mention our marriage alliance in either of the earlier meetings,” she began, “but all of you here know of it already. Tyrion rightly pointed out that it might be something to be kept quiet in the short term and the meeting in the Great Hall just now has rather confirmed that. However, with this war imminent and the outcome even less certain due to this latest news, Jon and I do not wish to delay. We wish to marry tonight.”

“Tonight?” Tyrion asked.

“You're not from the north,” Jon said, “and so may be less familiar with the simple ceremony in the sight of the Old Gods. We need no Septon or official, only two … parents to give us away.”

“Parents?”

“Usually, yes, but neither of us have any living.”

“I wanted to ask you first, Ser Jorah,” Daenerys said, “but I understand if you might feel ... if you wish to decline.”

Jon had worked out how the knight felt about her without her having to say anything and had agreed that it was only fair to give him a choice in this. Jorah definitely looked uncomfortable but whether because of his feelings or because of the offer itself, she could not say.

“Of _course_ I would give you away, Khalessi. Who else? And I am from the north so know the custom and words well enough.”

“You three are the only Stark family I have,” Jon said to his siblings. “I know it's usually an older, male relation who takes on the role but the Old Gods have never been sticklers for tradition and so ...”

“We could all do it,” Arya suggested. “All three of us.”

“Would that work?” Jorah asked.

The siblings exchanged a look and shrugged.

“You can all talk about it this afternoon and discuss the precedents perhaps?” Jon said, “although, as I said, it's not like the ceremonies in the south where every word and action must be exact. The Gods know our hearts and intent and that, along with the name and House I give, are ultimately less important than for the southern gods.”

“Are you absolutely certain about doing this now?” Tyrion asked.

“Yes,” Daenerys replied. “Who knows if we will even survive the next week but, if we do, I want Jon and I to be king and queen with no issue floating around about which one of us has the greater claim. And I really want you there, Tyrion. We want _all_ of you. We asked you because we couldn't imagine marrying without our closest friends and family in attendance.”

~o~0~o~

Daenerys returned to her room with Missandei and both changed their clothes and helped each other prepare for the ceremony. Arya joined them shortly afterwards, still dressed in her usual garb and obviously having no intention to dress up for the wedding, no matter how special the occasion. She had come to teach the queen the words she would need to speak, which only confirmed Jon's earlier comment about the simplicity of the ceremony.

“That's it?” she asked

Arya smiled at her reaction. “That's it.”

Dany was wearing a red winter dress with a simple black hooded cloak, embroidered with the Targaryen colours, which would both keep her warm on this cold, dark night and hide her unique hair colour from prying eyes. Arya escorted them downstairs and the three ladies chatted casually as they walked, trying to ensure their presence did not attract undue attention. Jorah was waiting for them at the entrance to the Godswood, holding two torches, and he gave one to Arya who escorted Missandei inside, before offering his free arm to his queen.

“You look beautiful,” he said.

She smiled. “I'm glad you're here for this.”

He nodded a little stiffly, jaw tight and Dany wished, yet again, that he could see her as a daughter in the same way as she viewed him as a most beloved father.

Their torch guided them forwards towards fainter lights deeper in the wood and her heart began to flutter as she saw the small group around the dramatic white weirwood tree waiting for her. Her gaze was drawn instantly to Jon, his hair now completely loose and wearing the jacket she had gifted him under a black fur-lined cloak. Her breath caught at the sight of him and his returning smile had her stomach attempting somersaults.

Sansa stepped forwards with a far more relaxed and genuine smile than any Dany had seen on her so far.

“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” she asked, having obviously decided to take the role of the father in this case.

“Daenerys, of the House Targaryen, come here to be wed,” Jorah replied. “A woman grown, trueborn and noble. The blood of old Valyria. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?”

Jon stepped forward, head down, with the smallest smile betraying his amusement at the line he was about to deliver.

“Jon Snow of House Targaryen and House Stark. Warden of the North.” He looked up at her through the curls falling over his eyes and Dany's breath caught again. “Who gives her?”

“Jorah of House Mormont, her sworn shield.”

“Daenerys, do you take this man?”

She wanted to shout it. Scream it. _'Yes, yes, yes!'_ But she was still gazing at Jon, looking so handsome in front of her and her throat was so tight that the words were a breathy whisper. “I take this man.”

And then Jon was in front of her, his hands in hers, smiling brightly and gently encouraging her to kneel before the tree. They were to pray, Arya had said, although Dany had never learnt how. She had had her own thoughts, desires and questions when she was growing up, phrases she would repeat during the lowest points of her life in order to keep her focused; _'If I look back I am lost.'_ However, none of those really worked for her now as she had no real reason to look back and didn’t dare look forwards. She glanced up at the eerie face carved into the tree and sent it a silent plea.

_'Please let me be his wife for more than a few brief days. Let us have years. Let us … live.'_

She fought back the tears that were now threatening. Was that a realistic wish, giving what was coming for them?

Jon squeezed her hand and she rose with him, looking first into his eyes and then over to Sansa who was now approaching with a bundle held in her arms. Jon leant forwards and untied her black cloak, handing it over to Jorah, causing her to shiver as the cold air bit more deeply into her. Sansa then handed the bundle to her brother and Dany saw it was a thick, black northern cloak decorated with the red Targaryen sigil and with a beautiful piece of white fur that would sit around her shoulders. Her new husband wrapped it around her, tenderly, and everyone seemed very amused about the design of it for some reason she couldn't quite understand.

“Traditionally the man takes off the woman's cloak bearing _her_ sigil and wraps one with his own around her shoulders,” Jon explained as he adjusted it more securely and kept his arm around her. “But we're officially the same House and could hardly keep this wedding a secret if you were wearing Stark anyway. But then Sansa thought to use this white fur ...” He was smiling broadly now.

“Yes? It's beautiful.”

“Well, we thought, what better way to represent my true name than by wrapping you up in Snow.”

Everyone laughed and Dany joined in, heart thumping as she gazed into the dark eyes of her husband and marvelled at how handsome he was. She shook her head.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I just think that a bride should feel most put out that her husband is more beautiful than she is.”

He glared at her teasing, shaking his head and moving subtly closer. “No, you win that competition, always.”

“Obviously you'll want time alone tonight,” Tyrion said, “but we also want to keep the news of this marriage to ourselves for now and so ...”

Jon nodded. “Where do you suggest we go?”

“Actually, the queen's chambers should be fine. Much more spacious and private and we've ensured that only those in your inner circle will be housed close by. All the same …?” He winced slightly and Jon smirked, glancing between Dany and her Hand.

“Aye, we'll try our best to be quiet, although I'm afraid we can't make the same promise for the dragons.”

“Do you think we're going to be able to keep that promise?” Daenerys asked him as he closed the door and moved towards her.

“Hmm,” Jon replied, slowly, almost reluctantly, untying her new cape and laying it over the chair. “Our first night as husband and wife can be like our first night on the boat. And you know how much I enjoy a challenge in bed.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I'm a challenge?”

“Keeping quiet whilst making love to you is a challenge,” he countered, his expression serious as he continued to undress her very slowly.

“This all seems so hard to believe,” she said, reaching up to stroke his beard and then tangling her fingers in his hair. “Husband.”

He smiled at that, placing a very gentle kiss on her lips. “My wife.” She pushed forward eagerly then, needing more. “Quietly,” he reminded her, although she had made no sound. “Slow and simple.”

He removed his shirt and boots as Daenerys made her way to the bed, taking off the last few items of her clothing and lying naked on top of the furs. Despite the cold temperatures outside, Winterfell was always pleasantly warm, the rooms cleverly heated by underground springs.

He gazed at her with far more love in his eyes than lust. “I really don't know what I’ve done to deserve you.”

“That goes both ways. Come, Jon, Iet's keep it simple as you said, I want to be fully married to you, as soon as possible and so let's not take the chance that something will get in the way of that.”

He nodded, crawling up the bed to kneel between her legs and kissing her the way he had that first time. His fingers made their way up the inside of her thigh, caressing even higher to gently stroke her, ever the considerate lover.

“I'm _always_ ready for you, my wolf,” she said with a smile, “I thought you would know that by now. Just bed me already.”

“Gods, Dany,” he gasped. Then he dropped down to kiss her deeply, entering her in one firm thrust and causing her to throw her head back in an effort not to cry out. “Hmm,” Jon sighed, as he turned more gentle. “Not used to being inside you quite so quickly, so it might take me a while to finish."  He smirked.  "Hope you don't mind.”

She groaned, lifting her legs higher, revelling the sensation of having her husband inside her. _Her husband!_  Just the thought made her shudder in delight. True to his word, Jon continued to imitate their first time; slow and sensuous, alternately kissing her lips and gazing lovingly into her eyes, as their passion built delightfully slowly.

_'Please let us have year_ _s of this,’_ she prayed silently. _‘_ _Please l_ _et us live.'_

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww :)
> 
> A little bit of love in return for all the love I'm getting for this fic. Thank you. I've been wanting to get more art done but struggled with finding the time so I've returned to something I did for an original of mine, a Scribble-Pic, and may do this for a few other chapters now too. I've also done one for chapter 2 of my new Modern AU 'Here Be Dragons'. Chapter 1 is out now if you haven't seen it already.
> 
> Also, did you know that there's a Jonerys Fanfiction Awards coming up? Set up by the lovely AC/NoOrdinaryLines, nominations are being taken now. I'll put the link in my Tumblr promotion post for you. Just an FYI, of course, no ulterior motive AT ALL! ;)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a recent discussion about how often we need to go back and scan the previous chapter of the fanfics we're currently reading, the idea of a short summary was suggested. I hope it helps.
> 
> SD starts with the lead up to #Boatsex. When it happens, the dragons react loudly!  
> Jon finds out the truth about his parentage and the Wall immediately on reaching White Harbor.  
> Rhaegal accepts him and he and Dany right the dragons to scout and help with evacuations.  
> Once at Winterfell, Jon and Dany push forward with their plans and tell a handful of trusted members about Jon's parentage.  
> During the first meeting with the Lords, Jaime arrives to tell of Cersei's deception. Jon and Dany quietly marry in the Godswood.

After a mercifully dream free sleep, Jon woke up to find his new wife snuggled comfortably in his embrace and sighed, a small smile on his lips, as he remembered his wedding in the Godswood and the romantic night that had followed. He wished he could stay here with her for a little longer but he needed to return to his own room to change clothes before the castle roused in order to keep this secret for a little longer. However, after kissing Dany on the head and getting out of bed, Jon discovered that his usual clothes had been left out for him here, meaning there would be no need to return to that part of the castle and risk being seen slinking back. Surprised that someone had managed to enter the room without him hearing, he quickly dressed, before heading back to sit on the edge of the bed and gently kiss his wife awake.

“Jon?” Dany mumbled.

“I'll see you at the meeting later.”

She smiled at him and stretched in a way that seriously made him contemplate undressing and getting back into bed. “I wish we could go down together as husband and wife,” she said. “I wish we could tell everyone.”

“Soon, little dragon.”

He kissed her again, trying hard to keep his imagination and focus under control, before heading to the door, listening carefully before opening it and checking the coast was clear. He chose his path carefully, making certain that his entrance into the more public areas of the castle would not draw undue attention, and then walked into the Great Hall, keen to ensure that all those breakfasting there saw their king.

“I admit I'm surprised to see you up and about so early today,” Davos said with a grin as he joined him. “Thought you might have better things to do this morning?”

Jon rolled his eyes, refusing to rise to the bait. “Thought it best, considering.”

His early arrival here had the unfortunate side effect of having certain lords come up to him to try to discuss their views on Daenerys and Cersei and Jon tried to use the same methods as he had the previous day, turning their questions around and asking them their opinion on the upcoming battle with the Night King instead. He even asked one pushy lord if he _really_ wanted the queen to take off with her dragons and army and leave them to fight the Night King _and_ the long winter without her. Then he strode off without waiting for an answer, grumbling under his breath.

Once the Hall was full and Daenerys had arrived with her party, the leaders talked again about their attack plans. The dragons would fly on a rota as the army travelled north, ensuring there was always one around to help defend against the Night King, whilst a select group of ‘White Knights’, as they were calling them, would wield the Valyrian blades against the Walkers. Once engaged, both dragons would work to alternately attack the Night King and divide up the wights, allowing the majority of the army to deal with more manageable groups with fire and dragonglass.

Jon frowned as the questions circled and doubts were aired, struggling to justify his plans when he was now questioning them himself. _'This isn't the right way,'_ a small voice said, but he knew that they would like his other idea even less. He made the mistake of looking at Daenerys during this, saw his own doubts reflected back at him and knew she shared his feelings on the matter. The pair of them had regularly talked tactics privately and yet they had always managed to skirt around this issue, concerned about what it meant. Jon winced, shaking his head gently and turning away, trying not to let his fear of losing her influence his final decision.

The experiments with dragon fire on dragonglass had been fairly successful in that they had managed to melt the material into crude shapes which were far less prone to shattering. The extreme heat had made it impossible to create neat sword shapes, but long, thin sharp rods of the substance _had_ been made, including one which could be fixed to Jaime's stump allowing him to fight with two blades, and others to be wielded as spears by fighters like Grey Worm. Now those two talented warriors, and maybe a few others, could be added to their select White Knight group and give them a far better chance.

Jon had always thought _he_ would be the one to fight the Night King, one-on-one on the ground with Longclaw in his hand but, now that their enemy had acquired Viserion, the plan had inevitably changed and he and Dany would be carrying their own long, dragonglass spears; the only weapon of any real use up in the air. The dragons were needed more than ever now - two against one - and they would co-ordinate their efforts to bring the Night King down near the Valyrian blades so that their Knights could finish him off. That felt wrong, somehow, but Jon dismissed it as his ego getting in the way. This battle was not all about him and he needed to fight his damn Stark honour and Targaryen pride and do what was best tactically. Longclaw would be of no use to anyone up on his hip in the sky and so he would lend it to Jorah, no matter how reluctantly, and perhaps the knight would be the one to deliver the killing blow with it.

That odd feeling nudged at Jon again but he quickly shook it aside: He and Daenerys on the dragons, Jorah, Jaime, Brienne, Grey Worm and the Hound with their blades. And Arya, of course … He pulled a face at that last thought.

That was another one of his doubts which he'd found hard to articulate. His sister was now an incredible fighter, but Needle was small and made of ordinary steel and what chance would she _really_ have in such a huge battle with only one, tiny dagger? The thought made Jon suddenly aware of what was missing in the Hall this morning - _w_ _ho_ was missing - and he leant over to Sansa who was sitting on his left.

“Where's Arya?”

She shrugged, distracted by the ongoing conversation and reminding Jon of the young girl she once was, standing in Winterfell's courtyard when King Robert visited. His feeling of dread intensified.

“I think we need to do some scouting,” Daenerys whispered to him once the meeting was over.

Jon nodded. “Yes but, before that I-”

“-No, we should go straight away and grab the only bit of light we're going to get. We'll meet with the small council on our return.”

She was being queenly again, and Jon found himself following his wife's order and striding after her before he'd even realised what he was doing. “Arya wasn't in the Hall this morning,” he told her.

She turned to look at him, frowning. “From what I've seen, I think your sister can take care of herself.”

He shook his head. “That's not what's worrying me.”

“What then?”

“ _So_ many things today …” He frowned. “I think we're missing something.”

She nodded. “I've been feeling uneasy too, which is why we need to get up there as soon as possible.”

Each flight north was more nervous than the last. They knew that the Night King could suddenly swoop down and attack them but, so far, they had been extremely lucky in that regard. _‘Lucky?’_ Jon winced at the thought.

The biggest problem they had was not being able to risk getting too close to the dead army, having to judge its position more by the icy cloud than by the wights themselves. Today they confirmed that army's rough position and movement south, as well as the progress of the evacuees, before risking a flight a little further east to look for signs of the Karhold banners. Jon pointed in that direction - a silent question - but the queen shook her head, instead indicating the forest below them and reminding him of their other mission today; starting a fire in the woods surrounding Long Lake so that none of the dead army could skirt around and attack those fleeing from Last Hearth. Once that job was done, the pair landed north of Winterfell to supervise and assist with the building of the long fire trenches, as well as collecting supply lists to take back to the castle.

Their work today had had the advantage of distracting Jon from his other concerns and so, when they returned, he headed quickly to the armoury whilst Dany went to update Sansa and Tyrion on today’s scouting. The very last meeting with the small council would start in an hour and tomorrow morning their army would finally head out and, with that in mind, Jon decided to grab this one last chance for a break and returned to his own room where he found Ghost sleeping against the outside of the door.

“Guarding my chambers or waiting for me?” he asked the direwolf. Ghost yawned broadly, stood up and then followed him inside.

Jon removed his heavy cloak and headed towards his small bed, thinking to lie down for a while, but his gaze was drawn to his desk and he blinked as that ominous feeling he'd been trying to put aside all day suddenly came rushing back.

There in the centre of the table was a gleaming dagger - Arya's Catspaw dagger - and underneath it, a note. He grabbed at the paper eagerly, cursing when he found no real explanation for the blade's presence in his room or his sister's apparent absence from Winterfell.

> _A Cat has no owner._

> _It gives its loyalty where it will, but always with purpose._
> 
> _It has served mine. Now, it is yours._

Jon stared at the paper, his frown deepening and his fear and frustration building. The words may have been written in Arya's hand but he was confident that the words were his brother's. With a frustrated growl, he replaced the coarse, dragonglass blade at his belt with the Valyrian dagger and strode out, heading for Bran's chambers. The young man’s room was empty and he was not to be found in the Godswood either but, seeing it was almost time for the evening meeting, Jon could guess at where he would now be.

Thankfully, only Sansa and Sam were in the meeting room with his brother by the time he entered.

“What's all this about, Bran?” he asked, abruptly, throwing the note at him.

“If you are determined to give away Longclaw for the upcoming fight, then a cat's claw will have to do,” he replied cryptically.

“That's _not_ an answer. And where is Arya?”

“There was something she needed to do.”

“What?”

“Something important.”

“That's not good enough, Bran. What happened to all that stuff about us needing to share everything with everyone? We need our good fighters here. We need Arya.”

“I know you're worried about her, Jon but there's no need,” Sansa said then. “Our sister has changed - more than I think you realise.”

“And what does _that_ mean?”

“It means that she’s been acting more like her old self when she’s around you,” Sansa explained. “But, when you were away, she showed me … another side of her.” She shuddered. “I never understood her as a child in the way you did but I think, if you saw what I'd seen, you’d be nervous of her too.”

He glared at her. “And that is supposed to reassure me?”

“I think you know that her place is not here,” Bran said. “I think you already understand that she would not do well as a White Knight.”

Jon threw his hands up in frustration. “Why am I the only one worried about this? About her?”

“You're _not_ the only one,” Gendry said as he entered the room with Tormund and the Hound and Jon was sure the smith's glower matched his own. “But I think she left at some point during the night which means we stand no chance of catching up with her now.”

‘ _Probably not long after our wedding,’_ Jon realised. _‘Immediately after she’d left the dagger in my room and my clothes in Dany’s.’_

The council room was filling up now and Jon found himself torn; one part of him wanting to chase after his sister and bring her back whilst the other part felt oddly relieved that she was away from all of this. The main problem for him was that it was obvious that Bran knew what she was up to and that rankled. He was supposed to be the main commander here, after all, but there was little time for him to dwell on the mystery of Arya and her dagger, as everyone had now arrived and the final evening meeting commenced.

“The army is to set off first thing tomorrow,” Daenerys explained, “and Drogon and I will take the first shift and fly with you whilst Jon keeps an eye on the east and makes sure the last of the refugees are kept safe. We should meet up with the Night King's army in about two days time and you'll continue to have at least one dragon with you at all times until then.”

“Once we engage with the enemy our tactics will change,” Jon continued. “We'll need one dragon to focus on the Night King whilst the other works to attack and divide the wights into more manageable groups for the rest of you to deal with. The main aim is to bring the Night King down, hopefully close enough to a Valyrian blade for him to be destroyed. Remember that fire does not work on him or the White Walkers and our only true chance of winning this war is to destroy those leaders. Every one we get will decimate the wights, and we're hoping that killing the Night King himself will destroy them all.”

‘ _But at what cost?’_ He frowned at the stray thought, pushing it to one side, yet again.

The meeting ended and Jon reluctantly handed Longclaw over to Jorah before collected some long dragonglass spears which he would mount on Rhaegal. Sam parted with _his_ ancestral blade with a lot more grace, knowing full well how effective the Hound would be with it. Then they all left with hopeful words on their lips and grim determination on their faces. Jon tried hard not to dwell on how many of those farewells had been permanent.

~o~0~o~

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dany asked as he entered her room that night.

“No,” Jon grumbled, throwing off his cloak and striding over to his wife, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her head.

“What _can_ I do to help?”

He caught the familiar edge to her voice and felt a smile tug at his lips, despite himself. “For the moment this is enough,” he said, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Perhaps a little later you can think of some other way of relaxing me.”

“I'm sure I can,” she replied, her voice betraying her amusement. “Some wine first, perhaps? Or a horn of that awful ale you're so fond of.”

“Aye, that too … in a little while.” And he sighed deeply, kissing the top of her head, inhaling her scent and trying to think of nothing else but the comforting warmth now held in his arms.

“I love you,” she whispered.

He smiled. “I love you too and … we don't say that enough, do we?”

“Perhaps because there's so rarely any need. You and I … well, we just understand each other. Even more since the dragon riding, I think.”

“I thought that too … the very first time I flew Rheagal. I think you and I share the same sort of instinct as we do with the dragons.” He paused. “And that I do with Ghost.”

“Magical creatures,” she agreed. “And the magic of the Targaryens too, of course.”

“And the Starks.” Another deep sigh and he reluctantly released her. “Ale sounds like a good idea now and then bed. I hate that our plan means we'll be mostly apart during the next few days and nights.”

“Yes, but you know there's no other way. _We_ need sleep. The Night King doesn't.”

Jon downed the ale quickly and then started to undress, grumbling as he undid his sword belt and found it empty but for the dagger which it now held. He lifted the blade up and sighed, his mind briefly drifting to Arya and her disappearance before he wondered if he should have given this dagger to one of the Knights too. What use would such a little thing be up on Rhaegal?

“Stop brooding, Jon and come to bed,” Dany’s said. “Worrying and second-guessing yourself will not do any good now.”

He nodded, turning around to find his wife standing by the bed, completely naked, and grinned at the sight. “Well, that's certainly one way to distract me.”

She smirked. “That was the idea. Now, what were you saying earlier about needing to relax?”

He strode over, stripping his shirt off before he reached her, pulling her close against his body and kissing her passionately. “Do we have to be quiet again tonight?” he asked.

“Ideally,” she replied, “although we'll all be gone tomorrow and won't have to deal with any potential fall-out until after it's all over.”

“Good. I have an urgent need to make you scream.”

“Jon!” She hit him lightly on the arm and he smirked, quickly pulling her into a bruising kiss. She responded eagerly, hand grabbing at his hair, pulling out his hair tie and then burying her fingers in his curls. Jon just held and kissed her to start with, his hands running along the smooth curves of her back and only slowly edging lower, teasing her by not quite reaching her buttocks.

“Jon ...” She fumbled at the ties of his trousers and yanked them down, her own hands far less gentle as they cupped him and eagerly pulled his hips up against hers. “I need you ...”

He laughed gently. “Always such an impatient little dragon.”

“I hate you,” she mumbled as he continued to take his time exploring her curves.

“No you don't,” he retorted, before kissing her again, slowly but open mouthed, savouring every taste, every breath.

She whined, lifting a leg high on his hip. “No, I don't.”

Jon was in desperate need for her kisses tonight, he realised, as he slid one hand in-between her legs and pushed her gently back onto the bed. Seeing what was happening tomorrow he just wanted to gaze at her for as long as possible and commit every detail of her beautiful face to memory. As if she wasn't already seared onto his brain and his soul.

Dany came quickly and easily from the touch of his fingers, and he stopped kissing her only long enough to watch her as she threw her head back and gasped his name. Then he dove down for more of her lips and her tongue, mumbling words of love in-between desperate kisses, struggling with the brief, horrifying thought that this could be their very last time together.

“Jon?” She looked up at him, concerned, wiping a tear from his cheek.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, hating how his voice cracked.

“Sshh.” She gently pushed one of his shoulders, encouraging him onto his back before straddling him, dropping down hard and fast and smirking on seeing the shocked look on his face. Then she began riding him slowly and seductively, rolling her hips and lifting her arms so he got an amazing view of her lovely body. He reached up for her breasts, smiling as he gently caressed them. “That's better,” she said, obviously pleased to have stopped his brooding, even for a short time

“Dany ...” he gasped, sliding his hands down to her hips and trying to focus only on her; on her skin, her beautiful curves, her lips as they parted in pleasure. _‘But t_ _hey're t_ _oo far away’._ He sat up then, wrapping his legs up so they could continue in this position, kissing her hungrily as he slid a hand back between her legs and then fell into their familiar slow, rolling motion. Savouring it.

He was now desperate for release whilst simultaneously wanting this to last forever. “Together ...” Daenerys whispered near the end and Jon felt tearful again as he understood exactly what she meant. How they’d somehow managed to come to the same conclusion without having spoken a word.

“Together, aye … one way or another.”

Death for them both or life for them both, the couple silently promised. They could not be parted now. That _must_ not happen. That _would_ not happen.

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that summary helps. Thanks to 'NoOrdinaryLines' for the suggestion. ;)
> 
> Battle planning stuff is HARD and many of Jon's doubts are my own. :P Hmm, I wonder what his other idea might be? ;)
> 
> I've updated my profile with up-to-date publishing information on both my current fics. Chapter 15 & 16 will come out on the next two Saturdays during the Christmas Holidays, returning to Sunday when I go back to work. 'Here Be Dragons' will continue to come out on Wednesdays.
> 
> Don't forget to nominate your favourites for the [Jonerys Fanfiction Awards 2018](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fgoo.gl%2Fforms%2FGXlISEKUZ27iNEi53&t=OWQ5OGIzNGM4NDMwYmM4ODhmNGJjZGRmMzgzMmI1YzllMDdmYzMwYyx6WmJvbkdQRw%3D%3D&b=t%3ASA_trnLEbP7-lnwgT_8jWA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fnoordinarylines.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168290728305%2Fjonerys-fanfiction-awards-2018&m=1).


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SD starts with the lead up to #Boatsex. When it happens, the dragons react loudly!  
> Jon finds out the truth about his parentage and the Wall immediately on reaching White Harbor.  
> Rhaegal accepts him and he and Dany fly the dragons to scout and help with evacuations.  
> At Winterfell, Jon and Dany push forward with their plans and tell a handful of trusted members about Jon's parentage.  
> During the first meeting with the Lords, Jaime arrives to tell of Cersei's deception. Jon and Dany quietly marry in the Godswood.  
> Arya disappears and everyone prepares for the Battle with the Night King

Daenerys’ sleep was light and fitful, full of strange dreams that were fuelled by her anxiety about what the dawn would bring. Not that 'dawn', 'morning' or 'evening' meant much any more. Not now that the only hint of light left in the sky was obscured by the smoke of the forest fires, and night and day appeared identical.

She opened her eyes and smiled at the sight of Jon sleeping peacefully beside her, his frown now mercifully absent. Dany had hated seeing him in so much pain this last night, with the weight of the realm and this war firmly on his shoulders. The two of them had tried so hard to put thoughts of the outside world to one side during these last five weeks, to pretend that their relationship could last forever and their love making alone could save the realm, but tonight that had finally become impossible.

She continued to watch her husband for a long while and her fingers itched to touch his curls and stroke his face but she didn't want to risk waking him. He needed all the sleep he could get now even though, for her, that time was over. Daenerys slowly started to pull away, untangling her legs from his and trying hard not to wake him, but his hand clasped her wrist as she started to stand up, holding her back, and she turned to see his dark eyes now open and firmly fixed on hers.

“Please be careful.”

“And you.”

“And don't forget ...”

She sighed, leaning over to gently kiss his lips. “Together,” she said and he sighed, closing his eyes again. “Try to get a little more sleep.”

~o~0~o~

Daenerys met the White Knights in the Great Hall, checking they had everything they needed and confirming the final details of their march north. Tyrion and Missandei came to her soon afterwards, worried and fretting as they both tended to, but the plans had been made and there was no turning back now. Soon they were all heading out into the courtyard in complete darkness and she again wondered what time it actually was; early morning, probably, but it still felt like the middle of the night to her. Their joint army was huge, the largest ever seen, even without the bulk of the Lannister forces at their disposal. The Dothraki, the Unsullied, the Wildlings, the Watch, every surviving northern House and a great many more from further south who had answered their call, all now marching north to meet with the dead army somewhere between here and Long Lake. Only a handful would stay behind, with the bulk of those less able to fight, heading north with them in order to ensure the fire trenches were well supplied with fuel.

Dany walked over to mount Drogon whilst also attempting to reassure Rhaegal who couldn't understand why he'd not be flying alongside her this morning. She knew exactly how he felt. It seemed an age since she had not had at least one other dragon with her up in the air. Not since the attack on the Lannister army.  A life-time ago, it seemed.

She and Drogon initially just circled Winterfell as the army started its slow crawl northwards. While everyone was so close to home, Daenerys took the opportunity to edge very slightly east and take note of their smaller force heading towards the refugee stragglers in to help escort them in. They were due to arrive at Winterfell tomorrow and then things should get a little easier. She threw a worried glance north again, checking for Viserion. They had half expected the Night King to have come here earlier and she was honestly more nervous than grateful for his absence. Was there a particular reason why he couldn't stray too far away from his army? Did he need to remain close for his magic to keep working on them?

_'I think we're missing something.'_

Jon's words came back to her then and she frowned, trying to stay focused, but it was hard to keep her mind from wandering when all she had to do was hover over the army, occasionally melt a path through the snow for them and keeping a constant, nervous watch on the north, waiting and dreading the sudden sight of a blue flame cutting through the smoky darkness.

~o~0~o~

The army had made good progress and, at some point in the afternoon, Jon came swooping in on Rhaegal, having already scouted east and now ready to take his shift with the army. The two dragons circled each other briefly - Drogon brushing wings with his brother - before Dany took over the eastern duties; checking on the refugees first and then flying a little further to see if there was any sign of life approaching Winterfell from the south or east.

That done, she landed outside the castle and headed inside for her scheduled break, surprised to find Ghost immediately by her side, padding silently alongside as she headed into the Great Hall. This time it was obvious that the direwolf _was_ here on Jon's orders, her husband’s way of ensuring her safety when he wasn't around. She was grateful, of course, but it annoyed her to think that any northerner would wish her harm since knowing the whole plan and understanding that every single life here now depended on her and her dragons?

She sighed at the thought, heading towards the table to grab some food and wondering why she didn't feel more hungry after such a long flight. The kitchens had instructions to ensure there were refreshments here, day and night - as if there was any distinction now - both for her and Jon, but also for those staying behind to co-ordinate everything, create more weapons or work on the final defences if things did not go to plan further north.

“How goes it?” Daenerys turned around to see Tyrion walking in. “I heard you were flying in.”

She nodded. “So far, so good. There's little to report.” She took a mouthful of chicken and pulled a face. “I'll try and grab a few hours sleep and then I'll go out to patrol the east again.” She sighed. “I'll think I’ll ask Missandei to bring some of that soup up for me too. Perhaps I'll have more of an appetite once I've had a rest.”

~o~0~o~

She and Jon continued their rota for the next couple of days, the constant dark making it hard to tell how many hours had actually passed. Daenerys had no real idea of how long her shifts were or how many hours she had slept for and all she could do was work on some odd instinct and follow the same, repetitive pattern: Fly with the army, head back to Winterfell to sleep, fly east, back to Winterfell to sleep some more, fly north and swap with Jon.

Finally the last of the refugees had arrived and Dany thought it was now probably eleven days since White Harbor, although she couldn't be certain. She woke up, trying to remember which way she was due to go now. _‘East … I think.’_

Half an hour later she was flying that way, staying high as she searched the ground for signs of Karstark banners but encountering nothing but miles of bleak, empty moorland. _'Why ha_ _ve_ _they changed their mind? Why_ _are_ _they not coming as promised?'_

A sudden fear grabbed at her then. A memory of her last shift flying above the army and how the icy, grey cloud had loomed ominously, signalling just how close they were to the enemy. And yet, despite the imminent battle there had still been no sign of Viserion. Where was he? Where was the Night King? It was only now she was here and wondering at the missing banners that a horrible thought occurred to her.

She wasn't supposed to move too far away from Winterfell but the strange fear was now too urgent to ignore and so Dany flew fast and high towards Karhold, dropping a little lower only as she approached the great forest, whilst simultaneously keeping a watch to the north. There, below her, she could see movement in the trees and an ominously familiar mist which could not possibly have come from the sea.

Drogon roared, recognising the shapes before she did, and flaming before she could give any orders. Wights! There were wights here in the trees - far to the east - lumbering their way towards Karhold. How had they managed to get all the way over here unnoticed?

She should go lower and check how many of them were down there. She should fly further north and see what was happening up at the Bay of Seals but, no, not on her own. _Together._ They had promised. So, she allowed Drogon one final blast of flame into the wight infested forest below, before forcing him to turn west, flying just as fast as he could back towards Winterfell. Halfway there she encountered Jon on Rhaegal streaking towards her from the opposite direction.

The king and queen landed, half sliding, half falling off their mounts, before scrambling towards each other.

“The Night King's not with his army,” Jon gasped, grabbing both her hands in his as he reached her. “I just realised … I began to understand what my dream was about.”

“Dream?” Daenerys shook her head, realising that wasn't important right now. “I got suspicious about the lack of Karhold banners and headed further east. There are wights over there, Jon. Wights in the forest, heading towards Karhold and I thought ...”

He swore loudly. “I _knew_ we were missing something. I knew it made no sense for the Night King to just hover with the army - even more so when I had to do it myself and realised how boring it was. He must have flown east just after we left. All this time and he’s been flitting between west and east killing and turning those we worked so hard to save.”

“And now his _new_ army is heading down the east coast towards Karhold whilst his original large army attacks ours.”

“And he can keep doing it,” Jon continued. “Whilst we're occupied over there he can just fly off anywhere.” A look of horror crossed his face. “Could he even fly over the sea?”

“I've no idea but that can't happen,” she said. “We cannot allow it to happen.”

Jon took a huge breath, his hands still holding hers. “No … _we_ can't.”

The small emphasise was terrifying but Dany knew it made sense in a way that their original plan had not. The pair simply stared at each other whilst their minds raced and they came to a silent, join decision.

“Together,” she reminded him and he nodded.

“Aye, together.”

They were soon back on the dragons and heading east. Now they knew that the Night King wasn't with his army, it was up to them to discover his actual location. The royal couple flew back the way Dany had come - checking the forest and sending a few more flames that way, just in case - before cautiously making their way back up towards the coast towards the Bay of Seals. Here they confirmed what they had already feared, that most of the fishing villages and small-holdings they'd visited the previous week were now destroyed and deserted; a few distant, bobbing boats all that remained of the once vibrant community.

Dany’s sad sigh turned into gasp as an icy blue blast sliced out of the cloud above them as Viserion screamed downwards towards their position. She gripped with her knees and Drogon banked, he and Rhaegal instinctively following their riders' commands, hours of practice drills making the four of them work as one.

The two living dragons soared upwards, spinning around each other, high up into the clouds, before parting and rolling downwards, coming into attack from opposite directions. Another blast of blue fire ripped past her. Far too close. She winced and spun upwards again and Rhaegal flew around her, urging Drogon to follow. Their theory had been correct, Dany realised, as Viserion streaked past her once again, he _was_ a wight - his wings already slight decayed - and that should slow him down. Using their strange instinct - telepathy, dragon awareness, Targaryen magic, whatever it was - Jon and Dany came to a full understanding in that moment and fled west, urging the dragons to use every flying instinct they had, and gain some much needed distance which would allow them to turn their defensive moves into some sort of offence.

So much about their recently planning hadn't made sense and finally it was obvious why. It was probably good that she and Jon hadn't had the time to sit down and talk about it because she doubted either of them would have had the courage to admit to its logic or to give the other their blessing for what they were about to do. She hated what it meant, but knew there was no choice. The instinct was as strong as that time she'd flown to Jon's rescue beyond the Wall. This was the _only_ way.

How often had they repeated it? They had to destroy the Night King. If they could do that one thing than none of the rest of it would matter. Why should they risk all those troops, all those thousands of lives when she and Jon could deal with it by themselves?

They dipped and swerved around Viserion, using their superior wings and shared consciousness to draw him west towards Last Hearth where this had all started. Their first blasts of flame missed deliberately, trying to indicate their panic and fear, when it was really all about positioning. Once confident that they were a long way from the fleeing boats, and any other living communities, the pair began in earnest and the true fight began.

There were no safe moves here and no real way of protecting each other. One part of Dany wanted to scream at Jon to fly away south and help their army but she knew she could never give that order. Jon was probably thinking the same about her but they both understood that they needed both dragons and they now knew exactly what that meant. Whatever happened, they could not allow the Night King to gain a second or third dragon and neither of them could become a part of his army. If this fight started to go badly - if one of them fell - the other would have to finish them _all_ off. Daenerys ground her teeth, trying to put that thought to the back of her mind and focus on firing her hot flame at the enemy whilst dodging the blue flame that threatened to make her new fear a reality.

~o~0~o~

It seemed never ending. Surely they had the advantage here? Their intact wings, their speed, the very fact that the living here outnumbered the dead, but something was upsetting her count - some magic perhaps? - and the longer this went on for the more that balance would shift against them. The living needed sleep. The dead did not.

They spiralled upwards again - their favourite trick - far up into the icy clouds as they could before peeling off, seeing which direction Viserion had flown in and then quickly turning on their tails to fire at him. The blue flame came out of nowhere, causing Drogon to shriek and bank and Dany to grab at his scales. Far too close. Again.

Viserion was now following her, perhaps thinking her hit and moving in for the kill, but Drogon's sudden plummet had been through shock not injury and now they wheeled once more, moving upwards as Rhaegal descended, the two orange flames creating a wall which turned the Night King away, shifting the balance of power back to the living once again.

_Careful._

The silent, shared thought was a warning not to get over-confident, to remain cautious and keep planning ahead. They took advantage of that momentary pause to get into position and start a careful timed set of attacks; one throwing their flame whilst the other moved into position to cover the enemy's escape and fire again. Not only did it appear to be working but, for a moment, it felt as if time was slowing down, and Daenerys began to see a couple of moves ahead, seemed to know instinctively where Viserion was going to flee to. If she could perhaps anticipate his next move then …

It was a big risk. If she was wrong then it would throw out their careful timing and they'd be forced on the defensive again but she quickly decided it was worth it. Rhaegal flamed and, almost immediately afterwards, Dany told Drogon to fire into what was currently open sky.

Viserion flew away from Rhaegal’s attack and then screeched as Drogon's flame cut through the air and lit up his left wing. Her plan had worked, but they were all far too close to one another and so Daenerys pressed herself against Drogon's back, willing him upwards as flames flared again. She saw a flash of ice blue talons as Viserion, now upside down, grabbed at her but Drogon gathered up all of his remaining strength and cracked his wings downward, soaring upwards and spiralling out of harm's way. But then the single piercing shriek from below suddenly became two.

“Rhaegal!” she cried and her stomach clenched uncomfortably. “Jon!”

Drogon turned to give chase, dropping fast with his wings by his side, and Dany saw that Viserion was now falling with his left wing burnt away but with his claws snagged in Rhaegal's right wing. Down the two fell, circling and spinning, each dragon attempting to use their one good wing to slow the descent and give them some chance of landing and surviving.

The realisation hit Dany in the gut, her stomach clenching again as she worked hard not the throw up. There was one obvious solution here. One way to win this war. She should attack now whilst the Night King was vulnerable and distracted. She should get Drogon to flame and finish Viserion off, but that would mean …

Fire cannot kill a dragon and Rhaegal would likely survive, but Jon was only half of one and he most certainly would not.

In that one moment, she could see no other choice and Drogon was following her thought anyway, dropping closer and closer to the falling dragons and getting ready to flame. Dany wondered why she was struggling to see, why the target appeared quite so blurred, before realising that her eyes were full of tears and she was crying bitterly. And then, thankfully, she remembered ...

Fire cannot kill the Night King either.

The falling double dragon had found a strange sort of rhythm now and, although the spinning hadn't slowed much, their descent had. The dizziness must be dreadful, Dany thought as she blinked back the tears and tried to focus on Jon; the small, black speck clinging desperately onto Rhaegal's back.

‘ _Hold on, my love. You can land and then …’_

And then what? Their original plan had been to fight the Night King above their army and ensure he fell near their White Knights. But they were all a long way west, Jorah held Longclaw and all she and Jon had were a couple of dragonglass spears. Would that be enough? Could her husband use such a weapon on the ground? Would he even survive this terrifying descent?

Drogon had almost caught up with them now and the ground was closing rapidly. She could see the vast burning wood around Last Hearth and the winding river that ran through it, dipping in and out of her vision through the clouds and the choking smoke. Where would they land? Would Jon be able to avoid the flames of the forest fire? Rhaegal would likely be disorientated from the pain in his wing and Jon from the dizzying fall.

Rhaegal screamed as he hit the smoking ground close to the river, and Drogon called out in sympathy whilst Dany clutched at her dragon's scales and again fought against the fear and the nausea, quite unable to move or think for several terrifying heartbeats. Drogon had no such sensibilities though, flying in low enough for her to see the two figures rolling off the fallen dragons; the Night King up surprisingly fast, Jon staggering and falling and then attempting to rise again, trying to reach Rhaegal and free one of the special spears from the fastening on the dragon's back.

The Night King stalked towards him, raising an icy blade; nothing like the long spear he'd wielded before, but more of a weapon than Jon currently had. Dany wanted nothing more than to go to her husband, pluck him off the ground and fly away but Drogon was being less emotional, ignoring the pair of fighting figures and heading instead towards Viserion who had now untangled himself and was stalking purposefully towards Rhaegal, currently lying unmoving on the ground.

“I don't want you to,” she told her dragon.

It was a silly thought and fortunately, Drogon understood that, letting forth the hottest and longest flame of his life on his smallest brother. She could feel her dragon's pain, understood it from the very depth of her soul, and she cried with him, but they could not let Viserion or the Night King reach Rhaegal and either kill him if he was still alive or turn him if he was dead. Having been attached to the wight all the way down it was possible that it was already too late for the green and they would have to finish him off too, but Dany couldn’t think about that right now and, as Drogon's flame continued to burn what was left of Viserion to dust, she turned her attention back towards Jon … and then really wished she had not.

Her husband had managed to pull one of the special dragonglass spears free but it had been designed to throw from dragon back, not wield on the ground and it was not a weapon he was familiar with anyway, no matter how good a fighter he was generally. The Night King was upon him now, his own icy blade drawn and Jon ducked and spun, trying desperately to avoid the weapon whilst wheeling his long spear in an arc and attempting to go on the offensive. He was injured too, Dany realised, his movement awkward and his shoulders hunched as the Night King raised his weapon and sliced it through the air and against the dragonglass. It didn't shatter, but the force unbalanced Jon and he fell, losing grip of his spear as it slid across the snow.

 _'Get up,'_ she urged as the Night King stalked towards him. _'Please.'_

Dany looked left and right, trying to work out how she could help. She grabbed one of the spears from Drogon's back and threw, but the wind took it and it fell skittering a long way from its target. She wondered briefly about having Drogon intercept and flying Jon to safety but they couldn't leave the Night King with Rhaegal and they couldn't hope to destroy either in their current state.

Jon scrambled up just in time to spin away from the Night King's next attack but the ground here was slippery, he was quite obviously injured and probably still disorientated from that fall. He tried to move back towards the spear but slipped again, falling face first into the snow and then rolling onto his back, missing another attack by inches. He started to sit up but grimaced in pain and fell back down again, gasping, just as the Night King's blade whistled through the air once more, right towards his unprotected head.

“No! Jon!”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah ... Happy Christmas? Sorry :P 
> 
> I'll give you the next chapter on Saturday too, so you don't have to wait more than a week, and then edge back towards Sundays when I return to work.
> 
> I loved writing this fight (this chapter and the next) and, to be honest, the whole inspiration for this story was the delicious prospect of a 3-way aerial dragon battle. I know many don't believe Jon will ride Rhaegal in the show but ... can you imagine seeing something like this on screen?! :D
> 
> Anyway, Happy Holidays to all those celebrating and ... I hope you're all still speaking to me after this nasty little cliffie.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SD starts with the lead up to #Boatsex. When it happens, the dragons react loudly!  
> Jon finds out the truth about his parentage and the Wall immediately on reaching White Harbor.  
> Rhaegal accepts him and he and Dany fly the dragons to scout and help with evacuations.  
> At Winterfell, Jon and Dany push forward with their plans and tell a handful of trusted members about Jon's parentage.  
> Jon and Dany quietly marry in the Godswood & Arya disappears.  
> Jon and Dany decide to attack the Night King on their own, away from the army. Viserion & Rhaegal go down & Jon is in trouble

Jon's dreams were dark and terrifying. They were much like his old ones of the Winterfell crypts, but with a unique twist; the stone, Stark Kings of Winter now accompanied by white ghostly Targaryen royalty, all crowding around him, glaring and mocking him for daring to believe he belonged to either of their great Houses. He ran from their accusing stares, searching for Lyanna's statue, and he had no idea which of the silver-haired ghosts now pursuing him were his father.

“Lyanna?” He asked. “Mother?” The word felt strange on his tongue. Foreign.

“Aegon?” someone called out, but Jon ran in the opposite direction, fleeing from the name and everything it implied.

“The truth is down here if you care to look,” Bran said.

“I don't,” Jon snapped, turning from his brother and running down yet more dark corridors, desperately searching for the way out.

Finally he found the spiral stairs and stumbled up towards the entrance - desperate to escape - emerging to total whiteness with the two stone direwolves guards now half buried in snow. He started to make his way through the blizzard and then turned back around, but there was no sign of the crypt entrance now. No sign of Winterfell at all. Then the whiteness changed shade and feel and Jon instantly knew what was coming with the storm. He reached down for his sword but it was no longer on his belt.

_'What use is Longclaw on a dragon?'_

And then he was flying on Rhaegal, dipping and weaving as the snow whipped at his face and hair.

“I made a mistake,” he shouted. “I have to go searching.” But he wasn't sure what it was he was looking for. Longclaw? Arya? Or perhaps it was something more than that.

Then there was a bolt of cold blue flame and a screech which seemed to rip through his whole body and Jon yelled, sitting up in an instant, sweating and gasping for air, finding himself back in his dark childhood chambers with two red eyes staring back at him.

“Ghost?” he asked and felt a rough tongue lick at his hand “I have to go on Patrol. What day is it? Which way am I heading this time?”

He staggered up and splashed his face with water, trying to get his head out of the nightmare and back to the reality of the current fight, remembering now that it was his turn to fly with the army. He absent-mindedly fixed on his sword belt and was just about to put on his thick cloak when he paused, debating its usefulness. It has been fine when he had been helping with evacuations but it was more a hindrance during these patrols, the riding tunic Dany had gifted him was perfectly warm enough, and it wasn't as if this Targaryen style outfit would be visible to the army up there. With a deep sigh, Jon left the cloak where it was, reached for his thickest riding gloves and headed out into the almost permanent darkness, striding confidently towards Rheagal.

He and Dany crossed paths in the air again, and Jon felt a strange, deep ache as they executed the usual spiral greeting and their dragons stroked wings. It had only been a couple of days, but these casual fly pasts could never make up for not having her in his arms when he slept, or by his side when he flew.

He disliked these shifts the most. For hours the army just crept forwards, he and Rhegal could do little but fly above them whilst keeping an eye north, and it was hard to stay focused when it all seemed so dull. But boredom wasn't going to be an issue today because, suddenly, the clouds and smoke parted to reveal a different sort of mist and Jon gasped as he realised just how close the dead army was to them now. He swooped down and shouted a warning, pointing ahead and hoping they would get the message because, once the army crested this small hill, they would see the dead and the battle would likely start within the hour. Should he fly back to fetch Daenerys? If the Night King was here then both of them would be needed but … He peered into the misty gloom as that nagging feeling returned and then, without thinking about the possible danger, Jon dropped forward on Rhaegal's back and urged the dragon towards the front line of wights.

He allowed his mount to release his flame, cutting a swath through the dead ranks, but there was a purpose to this apparent madness. He had to be certain that Viserion wasn't hiding in a cloud or waiting to fly in from the north or east before he could make any further decisions. He and Rhaegal dove up and around and back down, flaming where they could, but Jon knew now that his gut instinct had been correct. The Night King wasn't here.

So where was he?

“Dany!”

It was a risk but he had to take it. Banking sharply Jon urged Rhaegal east and the pair of them streaked across Long Lake and onwards towards Karhold. “Find Drogon,” he told Rhaegal. “Do you know where he is?”

As if in answer to his question, the large dragon suddenly appeared in the distance, flying just as quickly towards him. Perhaps Daenerys had also sensed the danger?

~o~0~o~

How could they have been so stupid? How could they have imagined that the Night King would simply bide his time and wait for them to get ready? All this time he had been flying off to … who knows where and creating more wights in the process. Who knew how far south he had flown. Who knew how much destruction was being wrought away from the protection of their dragons.

Now though, Jon and Daenerys had no choice. It was entirely up to them as it always had been. They shouldn't have wasted all that time flying around and creating elaborate plans. They should have sought Viserion out and brought him down eleven days ago when they had first encountered him.

‘ _Idiot!’_

The airborne fight itself, when it did happen, was terrifying. Every time the blue flame screamed passed, Jon feared for himself … and Dany. He very much doubted the live dragons would be able to shrug off that particular fire either and yet, despite thinking they would have the better speed due to their dragons’ more intact wings, Viserion seemed have other advantages, somehow always managing to second-guess their movements.

Despite usually being well tuned to his wife's thoughts, Daenerys’ decision to send Drogon's flame out early surprised and distracted Jon and he had allowed Rhaegal to stay too close whilst he gawked like an idiot and tried to figure out what she was up to. By the time he understood, Viserion's left wing was on fire, Drogon had fled and Rhaegal's attempt to fly away from danger was far too little, far too late. The green dragon shrieked as Viserion's cold talons tore into his wing and then both dragons were falling fast.

Jon was used to controlled diving by now but this was far more terrifying and, as Rhaegal fought to get free, both dragons flapped their one good wing, and they all fell into a deathly spin. Not since his very first ride had Jon felt so out of control and all he could do was lay flat on Rhaegal's back and grab at the two usual spikes until his hands were raw and bleeding from the death grip. The view on the way down was a disorientating mass of white and black - snow, rock, trees, sky, clouds - and Jon’s stomach clenched as the dragons spun around even faster, the force pushing him hard against Rhaegal's back one moment and then, even worse, yanking him away so he almost floated free. All Jon could do was hook his leg around the strap that was carrying the weapons and hope the force wouldn't cause the leather to snap and send him and the spears falling to the ground.

Their momentum appeared to slow a little, or perhaps he was simply becoming accustomed to it. The ground was closer now but still coming up at him far too quickly. Rhaegal was panicking and struggling with the pain in his wing, but it was hard for Jon to calm him when he was feeling sick to his stomach and groggy from the speed of the descent.

He could smell burning now, the flames on the edge of his vision letting him know they were coming down near one of the forests. Grey-green of trees, grey-blue of water nearby and then the sky and the ground and the sky and … pain.

The impact seemed to vibrate through every bone in Jon's body and he grunted as his stomach was forced first against Rhaegal and then hard onto the black, scorched earth. He scrambled to his knees only to throw up violently and then, when he was finally able to get to his feet, he felt the sharp familiar pain of a cracked rib, followed by the sensation of the ground below him shifting uncontrollably. He took a step forward and stumbled, his body now quite unable to work out which way was up after that fall. A movement out of the corner of his eye brought him quickly to his senses and Jon forced himself back up, turning to see a slightly blurred, ice-blue figure stalking his way, cold spear in his hand.

Apparently the Night King didn't get dizzy.

Jon staggered back toward Rheagal, as if drunk, desperately trying to get his feet and brain to work together. The pain from his rib sliced through him again but he tried hard to focus only on the long, thin, black shape which was currently lying across the prone dragon's side.

_'Rheagal?'_ His heart dropped as he viewed the beast, knowing from their shared bond that he was still alive, but also knowing that that might not last for long. A shadow flew over them then - Drogon Jon assumed - but he couldn't afford to get distracted. _'Spear!'_

The pain hit again and he allowed himself the luxury of screaming loudly as he pulled the weapon from its housing, using the vocalisation to spur him on. Pure instinct had him spin around the moment he had freed it, and black spear instantly met white in a spine-tingling clang.

They had been right, Jon realised, the special dragonglass rod didn't shatter, but that in itself would not save him, he was going to have to fight. He staggered away, hefting the spear and wishing he had let his stubbornness win and kept Longclaw for himself. Deep down he had always known it would come to this? He had always known it would be him against the Night King.

_'I should have followed my gut.'_

A blast of extreme heat from somewhere nearby forced Jon to stagger away, slipping on some snow and then stumbling on pieces of charred wood. The Night King brought his weapon around in a sweeping arc, this time with such force that Jon was almost lifted from his feet, his spear now more of a hindrance than a help as the weight of it first unbalanced him and then forced itself out of his hand. The pain lanced through him once more as he tried to crawl away and stand back up, but his vision was now blurring from the pain and the nausea and he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out.

Jon could see and sense just enough to duck the next attack but he was back on the ground before he knew it, this time face first. It was only as he rolled over to face the Night King that he felt an odd pressure against his side and almost laughed as he realised what it was.

_'I’_ _m_ _still_ _a wolf,'_ he thought, _'and I still have one claw left.'_

Jon looked up to see the Night King’s icy blade heading down towards his head and quickly pivoted on his back; his head moving to the right, away from the weapon, whilst his feet slid left, connecting with his attacker's ankles and causing him to topple forwards. Unbalanced by his own forward thrust, the Night King fell on top of him and Jon held him fast, despite all his instincts telling him to flee from the terrifying face. The unnatural cold was worse than anything he'd experienced, biting deep into his bones and convincing Jon that he would freeze from the inside out if he kept hold for much longer. Then the Night King brought up a talon-like nail towards his face, attempting to touch him, whilst Jon desperately pulled his head away. Then he took a firmer grip on the Catspaw dagger in his hand and drove it upwards with all of his remaining strength.

The destruction wasn't instant as it had been for the White Walkers. The Night King froze in shock as a strange sound began, a slow, tortuous cracking followed by a high pitched whine - like the sound of a thousand nails on glass - and Jon saw thin cracks radiate out from the point of the dagger, splintering across the Night King's body and then up to his face. The whine became a screech, rising higher and higher in pitch until it was less of a sound and more of a vibration and Jon had to close his eyes from the pain of it driving into his skull.

And then there was nothing but white in his vision as the Night King exploded into a million shards of ice, raining down upon him. Snow covering Snow.

~o~0~o~

“Jon!” The voice was faint and echoing, his ears quite unable to process sound after the exposure to that unnatural squeal. “Jon ...” A little louder now and closer and he felt rather than saw her by his side. “Did he … are you hurt?”

“ _Dany ...”_ He wasn't even sure if he'd managed to say that out loud.

“Please ...”

“I'm all right … I think, but .... Rhaegal?”

She sobbed. “I don't know. For a moment I thought I'd have to … I nearly asked Drogon to flame and … If I had had to do that to you, I could never have lived with myself.”

“Together.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “That would have been the only way.”

Jon finally managed to turn his head to look at her properly. His wife was kneeling beside him, her face a strange colour and tears falling down her cheeks. He sat up with a grunt, surprised to see just how much ice had been covering him, as the remains of the Night King slid off his body and onto the charred earth.

“We can't stay here,” he realised. “We have to check-”

“-How did you do it?” she asked him. “I thought you were unarmed.”

Jon looked down at the Valyrian steel dagger in his hand, having no memory of even putting his sword belt on after he'd woken up. He laughed and then wished he hadn't, the pain reminding him just how hard that fall had been. “Bloody siblings and their cryptic notes.”

He struggled to get to his feet and Dany wasn't really much help, appearing to be just as dizzy as he was for some reason, but she still managed to make it over to Rhaegal before he did, half-falling and half-kneeling by the dragon’s great head before resting her face against him.

“He's alive,” she said.

“Aye, but in pain and his wing’s a mess.” Jon now realised he'd been fighting with a double dose of it, his right arm stinging in response to the dragon’s wing injury. Perhaps this odd, shared connection also explained why Dany looked so ill right now.

“He definitely won’t be able to fly, but I really don't want to leave him here either,” she said.

Jon looked up, trying to get his bearings. “Viserion?” he asked.

She sobbed. “Destroyed.”

“I’m sorry.” He moved closer to her, one hand on her shoulder. “And where are we? How far from the wights?”

I think we're just west of Last Hearth but, Jon, if the Night King is no more …?”

He looked at her, wide-eyed. “That can't be it, surely? They can't _all_ be dead?” He looked again in awe at the dagger in his hands. Could this one, tiny blade really have destroyed the whole army?

“It _was_ only a theory though,” Dany said. “We can't be certain.”

“No, we’re going to have to check.” He closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths against the continuing pain and nausea. “Are you able to get back up on Drogon, do you think? Check the immediate area is safe?

“I can try.”

“I'll stay here with Rhaegal then. Get my strength back and see if I can help him at all.” He frowned, feeling totally helpless at the sight of his mount looking so thoroughly weakened.

“Dragons are strong and resilient and so hopefully ...” She nodded. “I'll get Drogon to hunt something for him too.” She started to turn away.

“Dany ...” Jon staggered to his feet again, holding out a hand to her and pulling her roughly into his arms. “I hated that. Every time Viserion got close to you. The fear.”

She choked back a laugh. “You talk of _your_ fear after I had to watch you fall? After the Night King came for you like that?”

“We are going to be in for such a telling off when we get back to Winterfell.”

She pulled away, standing up to her full height, such as it was. “We are the rightful King and Queen,” she declared, “and they wouldn't dare.”

He grinned at that. “Go, little dragon, we've still a lot to do, but please be careful. We cannot assume that the danger has passed.”

Jon watched her weaving her way back to Drogon and struggling to climb him, frowning as he wondered if she would be better off staying here for a little longer, after all. But then she was up and flying and he breathed out in relief, staggering back to Rheagal, collapsing down by his head and resting his own against it much as Dany had done; hoping to give some comfort to the dragon if nothing else.

~o~0~o~

Jon had fallen into a dose at some point, but knew when Dany and Drogon were returning, somehow sensing it via Rhaegal. He sat up suddenly, looked up through the burnt branches until he saw the large dragon descend towards them, one deer clasped in each talon.

“He's weak and in pain,” Jon told Dany as she came over to check on them, “but I cannot say for certain if his injuries are life threatening.”

“Drogon is concerned but not panicked so I'm hopeful,” she replied. “I was wondering if we could somehow persuade him to move towards the river? At least then he'll have both food and water when we have to head off.”

Jon nodded. “With Drogon's help, perhaps.”

It took some time but eventually they persuaded Rhaegal to walk the short distance to the river's edge. The water by each shore had started to freeze but Drogon helpfully defrosted it before eating one of the deer and dropping the other at his brother's head. Then, after the three of them had reassured themselves that Rhaegal was as comfortable as he could be, Jon began the slow, painful climb up onto the larger dragon and settled behind his wife, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head against her back.

“I can't believe this is the first time I've been on Drogon,” he mumbled, enjoying the warmth and comfort of being close to her. He closed his eyes, wincing as the wing beats jolted him and aggravated his injuries, quite determined to hide just how much pain he was in from Dany if he could.

“You do realise how big he is, don't you,” she teased. “You're quite capable of riding on him without clinging to me.”

“It's nice to be this close to you when we're flying for a change,” he shouted back, “and, honestly, I'm exhausted enough that I do actually need the support.”

~o~0~o~

The Bay of Seals was a deserted, desolate and burnt wilderness. There was no sign of any living soul and yet no sign of wights either, although they would have been heading south towards Karhold if they were still alive. Jon and Dany did see numerous small boats bobbing out at sea, but there was no easy way of communicating with the people there to explain what was happening and they didn't have all the answers yet anyway. Either way, it was probably best the evacuees continued their journey south. The death of the Night King didn't mean winter was going to instantly end tonight and things would be a lot easier for these people in a less harsh environment further south.

Next they flew south to check on Karhold. The forest fire Dany had started earlier was now burning furiously and there didn’t seem to be any obvious way to halt its spread. Hopefully the snows would slow it and eventually kill it, but the good news was that there was no sign of wights in the forest below, and plenty of living people milling around the settlement by the shore, many still desperately trying to evacuate by boat.

Drogon's flight in quickly gained everyone’s attention and Jon and Dany dismounted with some difficulty and made their way forwards, soon finding young Lady Karstark and explaining what had happened. It was ultimately up to her whether she continued to evacuate her people to the south, but at least she now knew that the need was no longer urgent and they really only had the forest fire to worry about for the time being. They two dragon riders decided to take a short break here, just long enough to take on some food and water, and Jon finally admitted defeat and sought out the maester so he could have his injuries tended to. The man scowled when the young king shrugged off his broken ribs as something he was very much used to, but thankfully Dany didn't try to order him to accept anything other than a tight bandage around his torso understanding that they were both urgently needed back at Winterfell … and that they would then have to check on Rhaegal … and then fly further north to where the dead army had been to check there … and then …

Jon groaned at the thought of all they still had to do, looking up unnecessarily at the permanently dark sky and wondering how much time had passed since he had woken up in his chambers after that terrifying dream. The pair did one final sweep of the whole eastern area to confirm it was in the clear, before calling back in on the dragon by the lake, pleased to note that Rhegal had eaten half the deer and was dosing peacefully.

After that they flew directly west, over Long Lake and towards the scene of the battle that Jon had left so abruptly to find out what had happened to their army and all their friends.

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for the frustrating Holiday gift last weekend. I hope you're all feeling better about this now. I loved writing these action sequences but, like Jon, had my own frustration about where Longclaw would be during it. There were a number of elements of this story that changed as I went along, in fact, and I usually ended up making that part of the story too - such as the pair's sudden decision to take the battle away from their army.
> 
> My writing's been a little bitty this week but I have roughly reached the end now which means I can relax a little and mostly focus on editing.  
> 
> Last two days for [Jonerys Fanfiction Award nominations ](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fgoo.gl%2Fforms%2FGXlISEKUZ27iNEi53&t=OWQ5OGIzNGM4NDMwYmM4ODhmNGJjZGRmMzgzMmI1YzllMDdmYzMwYyx6WmJvbkdQRw%3D%3D&b=t%3ASA_trnLEbP7-lnwgT_8jWA&p=http%3A%2F%2Fnoordinarylines.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168290728305%2Fjonerys-fanfiction-awards-2018&m=1)There are a lot of good ones to chose from out there at the moment. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Previously:**  
>  SD starts with the lead up to #Boatsex. When it happens, the dragons react loudly!  
> Jon finds out the truth about his parentage and the Wall immediately on reaching White Harbor.  
> Rhaegal accepts him and he and Dany fly the dragons to scout and help with evacuations.  
> At Winterfell, Jon and Dany start planning and tell a handful of trusted members about Jon's parentage.  
> J&D quietly marry in the Godswood & Arya disappears.  
> J&D decide to attack the Night King on their own, away from the army.  
> Jon and Rhaegal are injured and J&D, exhausted, scout on Drogon to discover what is happening.

Jon was pressed up against Daenerys’ back on Drogon again, despite not needing to be so close on such a large dragon, but she now understood that he was suffering more than she had realised, and her own discomfort was nothing compared to the sympathetic pangs she felt each time she watched her husband climb up and dismount.

This odd connection had been developing for a while, but now seemed heightened. Or perhaps she was simply becoming more aware of it, seeing that this extreme dizziness and nausea had only really started after witnessing Rhaegal’s plummet towards the ground. In addition, she and Jon were both feeling extreme pain in their right arms, despite having no injury there, and Dany felt discomfort in her ribs when she had not been hurt at all during the fight. They both felt sick and dizzy, and their pain and exhaustion now appeared to be four-way.

She really hoped that this odd empathy would ease soon.

The visit to Karhold had appeared to confirm that all the wights had been fully destroyed, but it was still a relief to see the dark shapes of their own army milling around the battlefield with no sign of the icy mist or the White Walkers. There were dead here, inevitably, but the destruction of the Night King meant that they would stay that way, with no likelihood of them being reanimated.

“We should burn the bodies anyway?” Jon suggested as they looked for a good place to land.

“Along with any trace of remaining wight bones,” she agreed.

“What happened?” Jorah was the first to reach the pair as they dismounted, with others behind and she scanned the group quickly, taking note of the survivors and their injuries. “We had barely engaged the wights when they all simply … crumbled … along with every single one of the White Walkers.”

“And where is Rhaegal?” Grey Worm asked.

“Injured and unable to fly,” Dany replied, before turning to Jorah. “They’ve gone then? No sign of the dead at all?”

“No, but what happened?” Jorah pushed. “Why did you not stick to the plan?”

“I realised the Night King wasn’t here with his army,” Jon explained, “and so I decided to go looking for him.”

“And then he attacked us and there wasn’t really time to do anything other than fight,” Dany added.

“And you destroyed him? How?”

Jon lifted the dagger up. “With a little help from my siblings and a lot of blind luck.”

“I’m not sure I believe that,” Jorah said, graciously.

“We’ll do another sweep of the immediate area, just to be certain,” Dany said, but I suggest you all start heading back to Winterfell whilst Jon and I burn the dead - just in case.”

~o~0~o~

They swept up north, retracing the wights’ path, flaming anything that looked mildly suspicious whilst checking for any sign that some part of the dead army may have been missed. Daenerys was becoming gradually more aware of the pain and exhaustion - probably coming from Jon and Rhaegal - and so decided to turn back a little earlier than planned, determined to return to the scene of the battle and set the bodies of the dead alight. Then she urged Drogon back towards Winterfell, keen to consult with Tyrion and Sansa, and hoped Jon would take the hint and get some rest.

It all felt a little unreal. She felt as if she might wake up at any time and realise she needed to fly another shift above the army.

“What’s happened? Why are you both here? Why did only one dragon fly in?” Tyrion threw the questions at the pair before they’d barely set foot in the Hall.

“It’s over,” Dany said. “We’ve won … this part, at least.”

“But what happened?” Sansa pushed.

“Jon destroyed the Night King.” Dany knew she hadn’t been able to hide the pride when she spoke.

“Just like that?” Tyrion sounded sceptical.

Jon scoffed and then winced as his ribs protested the movement. “It wasn’t exactly easy.”

“You’re hurt,” Sansa said, moving forwards and looking concerned.

“I’ve had worse.”

“Well yes, I can attest to that,” Davos said, “but you should probably rest now.”

“I don’t think there’s time,” Jon said. “We really do need to get back out there and patrol some more.”

“I don’t think that _you_ should be climbing up on Drogon right now,” Dany said to thim. “And, with Rhaegal out of action for the time being, I’m not sure there’s any need. I can do the majority of the patrolling from now on whilst you deal with the northern lords.” She smiled slightly. “I’m not sure how restful you'll find that, but at least it will put less strain on your ribs than flying would.”

To her surprise, Jon didn’t protest this, simply sighing deeply and nodding his agreement.

“Have some food then,” Tyrion suggested and then you can tell us what happened in more detail.”

“Food?” Jon pulled a face, his face pale. “No, not up for that right now.” He laughed at Tyrion’s stunned reaction, which was not unsurprising, considering how voracious his hunger had been recently. “You’ll understand once I’ve explained what happened to me up there but, yes, I’ll be happy to sit down at a table and talk.” He looked up at Dany. “Not too long out there though. _You_ need to rest too.”

“You should probably put your cloak back on,” Tyrion said to Jon as she started to leave the Hall. “That jacket of yours isn’t exactly subtle and there are a number of the older lords here who might question your choice of decoration.”

“Let them question it,” Jon grumbled. “I haven’t got the energy to move yet. I’ll be back looking full Stark later on, I’m sure.” He paused. “What time is it, anyway?”

Tryion shrugged. “Evening … probably? Who knows.”

Daenerys left them to it, heading back out to Drogon and then flying off on patrol. She circled the returning army a few times, did another quick sweep north up to the Wall, checked on the various forest fires and finally headed down towards Long Lake to check on Rhaegal. She stayed with the green dragon for a little, taking the opportunity to grab a nap against his large back, while Drogon headed off to do some more hunting. Then, shortly after he had returned, they remounted and flew him on an eastern loop, scouting the Bay of Seals and Karhold before they returned to Winterfell.

The Great Hall was very quiet when she re-entered, implying that it was officially night time now. There was a rota in progress here too and Davos was sitting at the head table with Missandei, ready to field any questions which might come their way.

“Will you rest now, your Grace?” her friend asked.

“I managed a short dose when visiting Rhaegal,” she said, “but, yes, I wouldn’t mind getting a little more sleep before heading out again.” She looked around to make sure there was no-one else near. “Where’s Jon?”

“I saw him heading for his own room with Ghost by his side,” Davos said.

“I’ll let him sleep then,” she said, declining Missandei’s offer of food as she made her way out of the the Hall. As tempting as it was to seek her husband out, it really wasn’t worth the risk of being discovered and he would probably benefit from the extra rest after all he’d been through. Daenerys instead headed up to her own chambers only to find her door barred by a large, white shape.

“Hello, Ghost. What are you doing here?” She wondered for a moment if Jon was inside waiting for her after all, and her heart skipped at the thought. The direwolf stood up as she approached and let her through but the room, when she looked in, was empty. “He set you to guard me then, did he?”

She opened the door wider, an invitation for Ghost to enter, but he ignored her, simply turning and heading back down the corridor. Too tired and sore to wonder at the wolf’s motivations, Dany headed in, stripped off all her clothes and collapsed into bed.

~o~0~o~

She woke to discover warm arms wrapped around her stomach, and the pleasantly familiar feel of her husband pressed against her back. She hummed at the sensation, wriggling herself up against his naked body and smirking as she felt him hard against her backside.

“I told Ghost to fetch me when you arrived,” he mumbled against her shoulder.

“Ah, so that’s why he was at my door? He understands that much?”

“Hmm.” Jon pulled her even closer, placing a soft kiss on her back and, despite their intimate position, Dany guessed that Jon was probably too tired and sore to do anything more than cuddle. She rolled over in his arms, giggling at his complaint, and pulled the furs down in order to inspect his injuries. His torso, which had already been riddled with scars, was now even more colourful, with numerous bruises appearing around the white of the rough bandages. “Dany! You’re letting the heat out.”

“Ouch, you poor baby,” she said. “I had no idea.”

“Kept getting bashed up against Rhaegal all the way down and some of those spines of his are sharp. Hands suffered too.” He held them up briefly to show the grazes on his palms from where he’d obviously gripped on for dear life, before quickly pulling the furs back up over the two of them. “Then there was the landing; first on Rhaegal and then on the ground.”

“Anyone would think you’re fishing for sympathy,” she said, genuinely surprised at how honest and talkative Jon was being about his injuries.

“Blame Missandei,” he mumbled. “She sneaked off during the meeting on the pretence of getting some rest, only to come back with Maester Wolkan in tow.”

“Oh?”

“She’d obviously guessed how much pain I was in and then, when I initially refused Milk of the Poppy, she looked at me all wide-eyed and said how cross you’d be with her if she didn’t see I was well looked after.”

“What? As if I’d be cross with _her_ ,” Dany scoffed.

“Well yes, I knew that really but she … gave me this look, you see. It was all sad and pathetic - worse than Ghost - and …” He grumbled. “I’m used to females literally threatening me to get their own way so I’ve got no defences against that sort of subtle bullying.”

Dany giggled. “So, you’re all dosed up and that’s why you’re being so talkative?”

“Hmm. Am I?”

“You sound very relaxed,” she said, reaching a hand out to slide between his legs. “Although not all of you is.”

“Well _that_ is entirely your fault. Lying here all soft and naked and beautiful.”

She struggled not to laugh. “Right?”

“And I want you so badly, I really do, but I don’t think I’ve got the energy.”

“You don’t need any,” she said. “All you need to do is roll onto your back and let me do the rest.”

“Hmm?” She didn’t think he’d worked out what she meant but he complied anyway and Dany quickly ducked under the furs, slowly kissing down his chest and stomach until she found what she was looking for. First licking up his length and then taking him very slowly and gently into her mouth. “Dany ...” Jon gasped, reaching down to her.

“No need to do anything,” she said, as she pulled away briefly. “Just lie back and enjoy yourself.”

“Do you ever feel like you’re dreaming?” he asked then. “As If you’ll wake up and realise that the war isn’t over?”

“Yes,” she said, pulling away to answer him, her head still under the furs. “But then, it isn’t over, is it? Not all of it.”

“True.”

“Be quiet now, husband. This dragon is hungry and needs to feast on some wolf.”

~o~0~o~

Dany found herself back in Jon’s arms when she next woke and wriggled slowly out from his embrace, determined not to wake him. Or perhaps she should? There would be meetings and numerous questions for them soon and Jon’s absence would be noted, especially if he could not be found in his own room.

Right now though, she needed to get back out on patrol and check on Rhaegal. His wing really had looked a mess and she had no idea if he’d ever be able to fly again. Even if he was only down for a few months, it meant Jon was grounded too - other than riding with her on Drogon - and all the tactics they’d learnt and employed against the Night King would be of no use in the southern war. Just her and Drogon up there then, she mused, as it had been before.

She sighed, wobbling as she stood up and having to quickly sit back down on the bed again. Why was she still feeling dizzy? Surely that was Jon’s symptom and even then he couldn’t still be suffering almost a day after the fall. Perhaps it was the shared exhaustion? She just about managed to keep her feet on the second attempt, moving to dress and then staggering out of the door to find Grey Worm standing outside her door.

“Missandei said I should guard here because Lord Stark is here,” he said. “The giant wolf is guarding his room to make others think he is there still, and the beast will not let any but friends get close.”

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “I’m sure Jon will feel able to make his way back there soon but I need to get back up on Drogon.”

“If you are certain. You do not look recovered.”

She sighed. “I won’t stay out for long.”

“Lady Stark says the weather is now getting very bad.”

She pulled a face. “Fine, but I do at least need to check on Rhaegal.”

The snow was already falling heavily when she left and her trip towards the Wall was soon brought to a halt by the heaviest blizzard she had yet encountered. She quickly turned Drogon south towards Last Hearth, pleased to discover Rhaegal was far more himself, with the exception of his badly mangled wing. She walked with him a little way, trying to encourage him to continue south-west and wondering how long it might take him to make it all the way to Winterfell if his wing did not heal. As the snow became heavier, she settled him down in the shelter of a copse of trees that had managed to avoid the forest fires and hoped he’d be all right. She really wished he was a little hatchling again and could ride on her shoulder, but even Drogon wasn’t big enough to carry his brother over all that distance.

The queen had barely landed back at at the castle when she received a request to head out again. The returning army was caught in the blizzard and had asked if Drogon would melt a path for them as he had before. If that worked they could be back tomorrow and their arrival would prompt another important meeting, one which Dany was definitely _not_ looking forward to. Now the lords’ attention would be on Jon’s side of their bargain - the part that had promised his support for _her_ war - and she knew that would not go down well, especially during the winter. To be honest it was hard for even her to focus on that right now. There was simply far much to do up here to ensure everyone was safe and well fed.

Ghost met Daenerys at the gate, walking confidently alongside her, whilst numerous awed stares followed their progress. It was good to have this extra security, of course, but she wondered how the more distrustful lords would view the sight of Jon’s faithful direwolf by her side. Probably in much the same way as they viewed their king riding a Targaryen dragon. She pulled a face at the thought of the numerous conflicts to come. Ghost followed her back to her room but Jon wasn’t there and she immediately fell asleep on the bed, woken up some time later by Missandei who tried to persuade her to eat some of the restorative stew that had been so useful during the stressful early scouting.

The next time she awoke it was to see Tyrion by her side, his expression grave. “What is it?” she asked.

“Maester Wolkan is most concerned about you and Jon.”

“I’m all right,” she insisted. “Just tired and a bit sore.”

“Yes but why are _you_ sore? It was my understanding that you weren’t injured during the fight.”

She rubbed her right shoulder. “Feeling Rhaegal’s injury, I think and ...” She paused, wincing. “Perhaps Jon’s too?”

Tyrion frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do we, but we think all this dragon riding has connected us somehow.”

“Just the riding?” he asked with a frown. “This isn’t some ... Targaryen thing?”

“Possibly, but who is there left to ask?”

“True. Well, the army is due in tomorrow and then there’ll be a meeting.”

She pulled a face. “So I heard.”

“And so I’m really hoping you two are back to your best because this isn’t going to be easy.”

She sighed. “Yes, I know.”

He nodded. “I’m sending the Maester back into you before that and at least this snow storm can allow you to rest a little until then?”

She nodded. “I’m worried about Rhaegal out there in this weather but there’s not much to be done about that so, yes, a nice long sleep and then I’m sure we’ll both be ready for anything.”

~o~0~o~

Jon was her next visitor, arriving the following ‘day’ and still looking exceptionally pale.

“Really just wanted to talk things through with you before the meeting,” he explained as they both made their way to her desk, Dany wishing their discussion could take place in bed as was their custom.

“Of course. Do you feel that this … four-way thing is easing at all?”

“Not really,” he replied. “Some of it, perhaps. I’m not quite so dizzy, my arm doesn’t hurt as much and my own pain has eased too. My main problem now is the nausea. I just can’t seem to keep anything down at the moment.”

“Really?” She frowned. “My stomach’s been a little unsettled ever since we landed at White Harbor but recently that’s been better. Mostly it’s dizziness with me, which doesn’t make much sense now.”

“Didn’t make sense before,” Jon countered. “Rhaegal and I were the ones doing all the spinning and that was two days ago.”

“So where are all these odd sensations coming from?”

“No idea, but I hope the Maester can figure it out soon. We really don’t have time to rest.”

“I know.” She sighed. “You think you can stay here tonight?”

He smiled. “That was the plan. We always do sleep better together, and Ghost has been helpful, sleeping outside my door whenever I’m with you.”

She nodded. “I noticed. Never realised wolves were so clever.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “Are you teasing me?”

She smirked. “Dragons, of course, are exceptionally intelligent.”

“So what does that make me then?”

“A little above average, perhaps?” she suggested.

He laughed and then turned pale, grinding his teeth together and clutching at his stomach. “Gods, this is ridiculous. I can’t imagine there’s anything else to come up.”

“Something you ate perhaps?” she asked as he rushed over to the chamber pot.

“That might make sense if I’d actually eaten anything in the last few days,” he called out weakly and it was a little while before he returned, his colour even more palid than before. “Anyway, assuming I can go another hour without throwing up,” he continued, “I thought perhaps we could talk about the upcoming meeting and what you think we should do now about the south.”

Wolkan appeared near the end of their conversation, quizzing Jon a little more about his symptoms before he left them and, although the old man’s presence meant they couldn’t confirm their later meeting, she was fairly confident from Jon’s knowing look that he hadn’t forgotten his intention to return to her later that night.

Then it was Dany’s turn for the questions and she actually found the Maester’s confusion and ‘tutting’ quite amusing as he went through her list of symptoms and tried to make some sense of them.

“I can’t help but think that perhaps you and Lord Stark are not being entirely honest with me here,” Wolkan ventured.

“In what way?” she asked, nervously. Obviously they had not felt it necessary to mention the Targaryen and dragon riding connection at this point.

“In that perhaps there is more to your relationship than you have made general knowledge?” he suggested.

She lifted her chin, haughtily. “I’m really not sure that any ‘relationship’ we may or may not have is relevant here.”

“Hmm,” Wolkan said, frowning as he looked again at his notes. “It still wouldn’t exactly make sense but perhaps more so than anything else I have at the moment, however ...” He winced, looking at her as if she might burn him alive for what he was about to say.

“Oh, out with it, Maester,” she said, sighing loudly. “At this point I’m prepared to entertain any theory, no matter how far fetched.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obvious now, yes? ;) This plot point amused me no end when it first made itself known.
> 
> So, back to work - back to the Sunday updates. Still Wednesdays for 'Here Be Dragons' and I've recently published a short one-shot called 'Servants of Light' if you want to read one of my wild GOT headcanons.
> 
> 'Silent Declarations' has been nominated for the Jonerys Fanfiction Awards in the #Boatsex category. Well, this story is bit more than just that now but, hey, I'm not complaining. :D Thank you to those who nominated it. Just Google 'Jonerys Fanfiction Awards 2018' to find it and vote (for any of your favourites, of course xxx)
> 
> A belated thank you to my lovely Jonerys friends - AC, Ash, Sparks, Frost, Meisie - for all their support recently. It's very much appreciated.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Previously:**  
>  SD starts with the lead up to #Boatsex. When it happens, the dragons react loudly!  
> Jon finds out the truth about his parentage and the Wall immediately on reaching White Harbor.  
> Rhaegal accepts him and he and Dany fly the dragons to scout and help with evacuations.  
> At Winterfell, Jon and Dany tell a handful of trusted members about Jon's parentage.  
> J&D quietly marry in the Godswood & Arya disappears.  
> J&D decide to attack the Night King on their own, away from the army.  
> Jon and Rhaegal are injured and both riders and dragons suffer from each other's symptoms.

Jon was feeling constantly tired and weak from the lack of food and all he wanted to do right now was sleep. Unfortunately he did not have that luxury as the army would return tomorrow and then there would be further meetings with plenty to plan and discuss. Not that he felt he would have all the answers for everyone, even if he _had_ been entirely himself. He left Daenerys and Maester Wolkan to their discussion and headed back to his small room hoping, yet again, that he could sleep all of this off and finally start to feel well.

The next thing he was aware of was being shaken awake and he groaned, trying to get his bearings.

“We let you sleep for as long as we could,” Davos said, “but I’m afraid it’s almost time for the meeting.”

“I feel a bit better … I think.” Jon sat up and shook his head. “Wish I could eat something though.”

“Well, try this,” Davos said, handing him a bowl. “Missandei made it for you. She said something about it having helped Daenerys when you two were dashing between the Wall and the army a couple of weeks ago.”

He took a deep breath and nodded. “Fine. Let’s give it a go then.”

The broth was thin, warm and exceptionally bland - ideal given the circumstances - and Jon got up nervously after eating a few spoonfuls, dressing slowly and hoping he could keep it down. Even the choice of clothes was a struggle, as part of him felt it was time to start embracing his Targaryen side whilst the other felt that today was going to be hard enough with any added complications. In the end, he took the easiest option, dressing in clothes that looked as typically northern as possible.

With no ill effects after the soup, Jon decided to risk a few more spoonfuls before heading to a packed Great Hall with Davos on one side and Ghost on the other. It appeared that he was the last one to arrive for the gathering, and he exchanged a fond smile with Dany as he stepped past her to take his seat.

“How are you feeling?” she whispered.

“A bit better.” He frowned as he noted how pale she looked. “ _You_ don’t look well though.”

She swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze. “I’m fine just … tired and ...”

“And …?”

“Jon?” Sansa, called over to him. “Are you ready?”

He smiled weakly. “Can I say no?”

His sister stood and Dany copied, the three of them having agreed to take full advantage of their joint strengths in this situation and work hard to present a united front.

“First I want to say thank you for putting your trust in me,” Jon began. “The fact that we were so quickly able to defeat the Night King is in no small part thanks to your support.” _Let’s start with plenty of flattery._ “Queen Daenerys and I engaged the Night King on his ice dragon, close to Last Hearth and _our_ dragons were able to ground him far away from his support. His death has appeared to have caused the destruction of _all_ the White Walkers and wights that he created and so it appears that _that_ threat, at least, is now over.”

“So why is winter still here?” someone asked.

“We do not believe that the Night King was the _cause_ of winter,” Sansa said. “Rather he used the change of season to his advantage. We are hopeful that this success might mean that the predictions of an especially long, severe winter are now wrong but we cannot make any assumptions. We are still likely to need to cope with a good few years of this and the numerous conflicts the realm has suffered in recent years means that most of our great northern houses are ill prepared for even a mild winter.”

“So, what is to be done?”

“In the short term we have enough provisions for those of you who are to stay here and those who many wish to return to their own castles and holdings but, in the longer term, we will need to find other ways to bring food and supplies up from the south to help us all to cope.”

Sansa turned to Daenerys with a smile and his wife nodded in reply.

“Before the battle I told you that I was here to help you and I am now going to honour that pledge,” she said. “I will continue to fly my dragon on patrol but will also travel south and bring back whatever supplies I am able.”

“We do not need the help of a Targaryen.”

Jon bristled, but Dany’s hand brushed his lightly, a gentle reassurance, and she didn’t not seem at all bothered by the comments, simply smiling sweetly at Lord Glover. “Do you not?” she asked. “So where else are you going to get your food?”

“I understand that you enjoyed your brief taste of independence,” Jon said then, “and I know you feel that you cannot trust the southern houses, but you have expressed your trust in me and in Lady Sansa and I invite anyone here to tell us when we have _not_ lived up to our promises. I told you we needed Queen Daenerys and her dragons to win against the Night King and that proved to be correct. I explained how dragonglass and Valyrian steel would help us and how my main goal has always been to keep the north and all seven kingdoms safe from the dead army and that has all been shown to be true as well.”

“Just as the Night King _was_ the main threat,” Sansa said, “winter has now become the new one. I, for one, will happily accept any help Queen Daenerys can give us in ensuring essential supplies get through.”

“But our king now has a dragon,” someone shouted. “Why do we need her?”

Jon was torn between laughing and crying at that. “I do not own Rhaegal, I did not take him and he was not given to me. He is and always will be the queen’s dragon. He simply allowed me to ride him.”

“How was that possible? Why you?”

He ignored the questions. “But now he is injured and Daenerys is the only one who can ride Drogon. So, she will continue to scout and assist with supplies, whilst Lady Stark and I work with all of you to decide how and where you hold up through the winter.”

“What about Cersei?” Lady Mormont asked. “Surely that threat can no longer be ignored.”

“It cannot,” Jon agreed, “However, just as this blizzard keeps us trapped up here for now, it also keeps her in the south. Once the weather eases, it should be possible to start moving our troops down to engage hers.”

“We have no need for southern queens,” a voice at the back called out. “We have our King in the North.”

“ _This_ southern queen is here because of your king,” Daenerys said. “I struck a deal with him to defeat the Night King and assist his people. That I have done.”

“And what did you ask in return?” Lord Glover asked.

Daenerys turned towards Jon and raised an eyebrow and he looked left and right to those who now knew the truth, or most of it. They had questioned his desire to keep certain information from the northern lords and he realised he no longer had any excuses to hide behind. He blinked against a sudden bout of nausea and took a deep breath.

“In return I pledged my support for Queen Daenerys in her fight for the Iron Throne and also ... promised to join our Houses through marriage.”

The sudden silence was dramatic and Jon closed his eyes briefly as the resumption of the sound caused his stomach to clench uncomfortably. _‘Not now,’_ he begged.

“Such an alliance can only be in our best interest,” Sansa shouted over the sudden din. “It has ensured the north has the support of Queen Daenerys, her large army _and_ her dragons. Cersei cannot hope to defeat us now.”

“My lords,” Dany shouted. “We cannot yet know exactly how our alliance will work in practice. Not when we have winter to beat and Cersei still sits on the Iron Throne. All I can do is promise you that we _are_ an alliance and that I will continue to work _with_ you and not against you. I hope I can prove myself to you over the coming weeks and months, just as I have proven myself to many others here.”

Fortunately, a number of voices called out their support for her then, some members of their small council and others who had either witnessed or directly benefited from her flights in recent weeks. Jon opened his eyes, his stomach settled for now, suddenly determined to get at least one more thing out in the open today.

“I have _fully_ pledged myself to Queen Daenerys,” he confessed. “And that will make many of you uncomfortable, I know. When her army marches south I shall travel with her as her husband and, when _that_ happens, Lady Sansa will rule Winterfell in my stead. She is the eldest true Stark and I can think of no-one better suited to the role of Wardeness of the North.”

“You are Ned Stark’s son,” Lyanna Mormont shouted. “And it was _you_ we named our King.”

Jon tried not to laugh at the irony of that. “Aye, king I shall be, but not in the north. If we are successful Daenerys and I will rule jointly.”

“You will abandon us for a southern queen and a southern throne?”

“I will do what I have always done,” Jon replied. “I will do what is right for the realm and all of its people. You have now seen what the queen and I can achieve when we work together. Tell me, honestly, that you don’t think we could rule Westeros fairly if given the chance? Do you really think ...”

He swallowed hard and sunk back onto his seat as the whole of the Hall appeared to tilt. The voices sounded strange in his ears and he closed his eyes as he battled another bout of nausea and dizziness. He felt Sansa’s hand on one shoulder and general questions and concerns raised. He even thought he heard his wife bite down a laugh next to him, but assumed he had imagined it. He knew only too well how worried she was about him.

“My brother is still much affected by his recent battle,” Sansa said. “He told you that he and the queen brought down the ice dragon but neglected to mention that he and his dragon also fell. Despite that, he was still able to battle the Night King once he'd landed and drove a Valyrian dagger into him, destroying him and the whole of his army instantly. These two are the true heroes here and have saved _all_ our lives, and so the least we can do is give them our full support now.”

Her speech earned another smattering of applause and Jon rose shakily in response, trying to focus on the faces now swirling in front of him. Both Dany and Sansa had now looped an arm into his, offering their physical as well as their emotional support.

“We will continue to hold regular meetings here where you can continue to air your grievances if you so wish,” he told them. “Or we could instead use the time to talk about the practicalities of surviving this winter and of building up defences in case Cersei attempts to attack. Your choice.”

“Jon?” Dany said. “You should rest now.”

He nodded and raised his voice once more. “If you will excuse me.” He turned to walk away and Daenerys and Sansa’s smaller frames were instantly replaced by Tormund and The Hound, as they half walked, half carried Jon towards the waiting Maester. “Gods,” he complained. “I hate being ill.”

“Sit,” the old man insisted and he looked up to notice Wolkan exchange a glance with Dany who was now crouching down by his side. She shrugged, amusement sparkling in her eyes, and the Maester chuckled in response.

“What? What is it?” Jon asked.

“I think that, if these two large fellows would help, it is time for you to get some more rest,” Wolkan replied.

“Take him to _my_ chambers,” Dany said and then shrugged at the looks she was given. “Now everyone knows something of our relationship it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“They always go for the pretty ones, have you noticed?” Tormund asked the Hound as they hauled Jon back to his feet.

“What are you blathering on about now?”

“The girls. Always go for the prettiest ones.”

Jon scoffed. “Do I look pretty right now? Honestly?”

“Good point,” Tormund replied. “I actually think you looked more alive when you were dead.” Jon threw him a warning look, glancing over at a rather confused look Maester. “So … you two are betrothed?”

“Actually, we’re married already,” Dany replied, as they made their way up towards her bedroom.

“What? When did that happen? I thought you southerners had all sorts of rituals and stuff to go though.”

“Luckily us northern, southerners don’t have that many,” Jon replied.

“Us freefolk don’t worry about any of that,” Tormund explained to Dany as they reached the door. “A man just needs to steal a woman and not have her kill him for them to be man and wife.”

“Steal her?” she asked, shocked.

“I think it was the other way around for us,” Jon said. “At least, Daenerys stole my boat and sword and held me captive on Dragonstone when I first arrived.”

“Huh!” was all she said in reply as they entered their room and Jon collapsed on the bed in relief.

“Urgh, I just wish everything would stay still.”

“Tell me about it,” Dany mumbled.

“Still nauseous?” Maester Wolkan asked Jon.

“A bit, but I wouldn’t mind trying some more of that soup Missandei got me earlier?”

“I’ll be back in a little while then,” he said. “Are you all right for now?”

“Yes, thank you, Maester … Tormund, Clegane,” Dany said. “Thank you for your help.”

“So, that’s it then?” Jon said once the door had closed. “All public now.”

“Well, you only announced our _planned_ marriage alliance,” Dany replied,” but I suppose we can now let the word get around that we’re already married, especially if it becomes general knowledge that you’re sleeping in here.”

“I was getting fed up of all the bed hopping anyway,” Jon agreed, “so, let’s just make this chamber ours now. Unless there are other rooms you prefer?”

“I’m not sure we’ll be here long enough for that,” she said, sitting on the bed beside him and stroking his head. “My poor little wolf … what can I do to help?”

“Come and lie next to me,” he replied with a soft smile. “That always makes me feel better.”

“All right, but I’ll stay dressed. No doubt we’ll be getting more visitors soon.”

Jon nodded, sitting up just long enough to take off his cloak and boots before flopping back down. “Urgh!”

“Well, I suppose most of the important points were touched on there,” Dany said as he closed his eyes. “Bringing in supplies, the southern war and, of course, the full nature of our alliance.”

“Yes.”

“So it is just the fact we’re actually married and that you’re my nephew that we need to tell them about now.”

His eyes snapped open as he turned to glare at her. “Dany!”

She laughed. “Jon, seriously, what is that Bran keeps going on about about evidence?”

“I’m not sure exactly, other than I’m assuming that my father left something down in the crypts for me.”

“Eddard did?”

He nodded. “During my reoccurring nightmares I’m always searching for something in the crypts and I think it might have something to do with Lyanna’s statue? Or there’s something else down there to do with the Kings of Winter. I think when I get down there I’ll know for certain but ...” He winced.

“You’re scared?”

He shrugged. “Apprehensive, I suppose. I just have a feeling it’s going to make everything more complicated.”

“But Jon, don’t you _want_ to know? I mean, for you. Never mind this business about your claim over mine, or your so-called real name. Don’t you just want … closure?”

He sighed, tears stinging his eyes. “Yes.”

“And us being related … that’s not part of the problem?”

He opened his eyes, rolling onto his side to face her and shaking his head as he saw her looking so concerned and sad. “No, I told you before.”

“And you’re happy. I mean … apart from all the rest of the uncertainty in our lives at the moment. You’re happy about us?”

“ _So_ happy.” He leant forwards, kissing her gently on the lips. “Dany, you’re the only reason I’d even contemplate being king. If I didn’t have you I would reject it outright. I don’t want to rule unless you’re by my side and, honestly, I’d rather be your consort and military advisor than _the_ king in charge.”

“I understand, Jon, but I truly believe you can offer this realm more than just your military expertise. I see no reason why we can’t rule jointly as you said earlier.”

He shrugged. “We just need Cersei to get off our chair then.”

“Urgh, I prefer the one in Dragonstone. I think I’ll just have Drogon burn that iron monstrosity and get us some new ones built.”

He closed his eyes again, smiling. “Or we could just rule from Dragonstone? I would definitely prefer to live there than at Kings Landing.”

“So would I.” There was a pause. “Jon … about this odd illness?”

“Yes?”

“Well, I was talking through the symptoms with Maester Wolkan and he was getting very confused.”

He scoffed. “I know. Even taking into account this dragon riding connection, none of it really makes sense.”

“True, although if _I_ was suffering in the way that you are, there would be many who would instantly jump to a certain conclusion.”

He half opened his eyes, now feeling very sleepy. “What conclusion?”

“Well, the Maester did ask me yesterday if there was any chance I could be pregnant?”

Jon was sitting upright before he even realised it. “What?”

“And, as you said yourself, that witch may have been lying or misled me or perhaps-”

“-Dany …?”

“-her prophecy conditions have been met somehow. It could even be some Targaryen thing and … and, although my symptoms aren’t especially bad, it would only now be five, six weeks at the most and … I haven’t bled in all that time and so-”

“Dany!” Jon grabbed her hands, pulling her up so she was also sitting, his eyes wide, his thoughts spiralling.

“So, it dawned on me that, with us feeling the dragons’ pain and each other's, that your sickness could actually be … mine?”

“What?”

She smiled weakly. “Congratulations, Jon, you’re going to have a baby.”

He placed one hand over her stomach and the other on her cheek. “A baby. I’m … I’m throwing up because _you’re_ pregnant?” Her lips twitched. “ _That’s_ why you were laughing at me in the Hall.”

“I’m just amused because I never really got sick like that with Rhaego and haven’t felt it with this one either. Dizziness and food fussiness, yes, in both cases but, of course, I’ve been putting that down to the exhaustion and, more recently, to _your_ symptoms.”

“Gods, Dany, please don’t tell anyone about this, will you? I’ll never live it down.”

She grinned. “I actually think it’s rather sweet.”

“A baby ...” He was still having some trouble processing the idea.

“And, despite all the comments others might make about us being related, I think our shared Targaryen blood has actually made a difference here. I think … I honestly _don’t_ think I would have been able to get pregnant by anyone else.”

He pulled her close, holding her for a moment before his stomach suddenly lurched and he had to abruptly push her away, scurrying over to the chamber pot as fast as he could.

“How long does this sickness last for?” he called over, gritting his teeth as he heard her desperately trying to muffle her giggles.

“I have no idea, Jon. It’s never happened to me, remember?”

“I hate you right now.”

“No you don’t.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so yes, it was all obvious to _us_ but, with Dany not thinking she could get pregnant and Jon throwing up and not her, you can hardly blame them for not working it out until now. I did have fun writing these various conversation and interactions though. 
> 
> Thank you for the continued love on this fic. As I always stay ahead on my stories I have finished writing this and 'Here Be Dragons' and so only have editing left to do on them both, which is good. I have started to plot and plan a couple of new Jonerys fics but it's a bit early to say when either may be ready. Keep an eye on my profile for the latest news on them and the modified update schedule for my current two.
> 
> Don't forget to vote for you favourites in the [Jonerys Fanfiction Awards 2018](https://www.google.co.uk/url?sa=t&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=web&cd=1&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0ahUKEwjJ2aagrtfYAhXDDMAKHYfyBH8QFggpMAA&url=http%3A%2F%2Fnoordinarylines.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F168290728305%2Fjonerys-fanfiction-awards-2018&usg=AOvVaw0GRJemlBXfTsjpv5KSYx4u) 'Silent Declarations' has been nominated in the #Boatsex categtory but there are loads of wonderful fanfics to vote for.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Previously:**  
>  SD starts with the lead up to #Boatsex. When it happens, the dragons react loudly!  
> Jon finds out the truth about his parentage and the Wall immediately on reaching White Harbor.  
> Rhaegal accepts Jon and he flies with Dany to scout and help with evacuations.  
> At Winterfell, J&D tell a handful of trusted members about Jon's parentage.  
> J&D quietly marry in the Godswood & Arya disappears.  
> J&D decide to attack the Night King on their own, away from the army.  
> Jon and Rhaegal are injured and both riders and dragons suffer from each other's symptoms.  
> Jon tells the northern lords about their marriage alliance & Dany tells Jon why he's been throwing up

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of activity, meetings and scouting. Jon continued to battle with sickness although, fortunately, the symptoms eased after a week and he was able to timetable the more stressful meetings for later in the day when he didn’t tend to feel so ill. With him _and_ Rhaegal out of flying action, it fell to Daenerys to scout and to deliver food and messages whenever the weather was too bad for ravens and horses to get through. She also attended as many Winterfell meetings as possible, keen for the lords to see her working hard on their behalf and help to show a united front with the Starks and with Jon in particular. Now the exact nature of their alliance was understood, the king and queen could allow themselves to be seen as a couple and didn’t have to try to hide their feelings for each other even if, as they’d suspected, most had guessed something of their attachment before anyway.

So, the most important thing now was for the queen to prove to these northerners that she was worthy of their king. Not so long ago, the idea would have offended Daenerys, but there had been enough times recently when she had doubted it herself - so highly did she think of her husband - and so she was now happy to take time out from her already busy schedule to talk with lords and servants alike to make sure they understood the faith she had in their king and in the current management of the north and Winterfell.

Jon, of course, worried terribly about his wife’s hectic schedule given her condition but she was keen to reassure him, explaining how she had ridden on horseback until the very end of her last pregnancy and was not feeling even slightly ill now that the worst of their battle symptoms had eased. As Jon’s sickness lessened so did Dany’s dizziness and she soon realised that, with the southern threat put on hold by the bad weather and her room now officially the royal couple’s chambers, she had not felt quite so content in a long time.

The blizzard that had followed the Night King’s demise was the worst in living memory but, when it finally moved south, more typical winter weather arrived at Winterfell and the number of meetings increased again as many lords decided to return to their homes whilst others requested help re-building. Dany again offered to ferry supplies wherever possible and worked with Sansa to devise a rota which would allow her to fly to these newly reoccupied castles with food from both Winterfell and from the south. As a result, she and Jon saw even less of each other than before, both busy during the day and having to grab sleep at odd times; one often fast asleep when the other came to bed.

And that was when Dany began to experience another symptom she recognised from her first pregnancy and quickly realised that her hectic schedule was going to make things especially awkward over the next few months. Either she was flying north to check there were no problems after the blizzard, or east to keep an eye on Karhold and the Bay, or moving tentatively south to check for enemy movements and trade with castles around The Neck for vital food supplies. And, during all of this, she had to remain pleasant and positive when she felt like tearing her hair out and screaming in frustration instead.

Her symptoms were especially bad today and she had only just returned to her chambers when Tyrion knocked to inform her that there was a meeting in the Great Hall which would be useful for her to attend. Making no attempt to hide her displeasure, Daenerys told her Hand to give her a few moments, very quickly freshened up, and then followed him down to a fully packed Hall, grumbling all the way. Her husband held her chair out for her with a smile which quickly got her heart racing. _‘Not helping, my love,’_ she thought as she sat down, stiff-backed on her chair.

“You all right?” he whispered and she just nodded, not daring to reply and not wanting to give him an excuse to let his concern show in front of such an audience.

The meeting got under way and Daenerys was able to confirmed that the passage south was looking clearer now, meaning they would need to be on their guard again. With so many now returning to the own castles they would have to work extra hard to ensure that all their vassals were kept safe, but at least having friendly eyes further south would be useful in the long run and the plan was to have half of their troops start the long march south towards King's Landing soon and help keep an eye out for trouble. The Unsullied and Dothraki would be happier in slightly milder climes anyway and, now the north had started to grudgingly accept the dragon queen, her army should get a better reception from their new southern friends than they would have done before.

Dany was just beginning to feel a little calmer when Jon stood up to have his say, and she groaned as she listened to him discuss various, important points, looking calm, handsome and authoritative. He had started to subtly change his fashion during these last few weeks, loosening his hair and wearing clothes that now clearly displayed both Stark and Targaryen sigils. His excuse for this was to gradually allow the northern lords to become accustomed to his new House, but Dany knew it was as much for Jon’s benefit as it was for theirs, a chance for him to continue to slowly accept himself as Targaryen, independent of his marriage to her. She had also heard that he and Sam had taken a number of trips down to the crypts recently but her husband had said nothing to her about it and she was willing to wait for a little longer before pushing him on news of what he may or may not have discovered down there.

But the problem today was that she just couldn’t seem to keep her eyes off of him, no matter how hard she tried. _‘Mine,’_ she thought as her eyes took in the dragon sigil on his jacket and imagined herself ripping it off him once they were back in their rooms. Jon had started to become aware of his wife’s gaze on him now, a small frown on his face as he nodded forward a few times, perhaps urging her to pay attention. That was no long possible though and, to be honest, she was well past the point of caring. The meeting had barely finished when she leant closer and hissed in his ear.

“Leave with me. Now!”

Jon's eyes widened and he looked half worried, half nervous as he noticed all eyes turn curiously towards them.  Dany ignored them, grabbing her husband's hand urgently and pulling him out of the Hall after her, smirking at his reaction and amused that he apparently thought her angry with him. Well, not quite in the way he thought.

“Dany, what is it?” he asked once they were out of earshot. “Are you unwell?”

“No,” she said, the touch of his hand in hers now driving her to distraction.

“What is it then? Have I done something wrong?”

“Other than driving your wife crazy, no.”

“I-I don’t understand.”

She made the mistake of turning to him then and the confused and hurt look in his expressive eyes did little to calm her. “Gods, do you _have_ to do that?” she complained, prowling closer whilst he took a nervous step backwards.

“W-what?”

“Look so damn delicious.”

He smirked then, finally catching up. “Is _that_ why you’ve been staring at me like that throughout the meeting? It’s only been a couple of days.”

“Far too long,” she snarled, pushing him up against the stone wall and kissing him passionately. She sighed as their lips touched, feeling as if she’d been dying of thirst these last several hours and that she was finally drinking the water she so desperately craved.

“Dany,” Jon gasped, pulling away from her with effort and glancing nervously down the corridor. “Not here. Our chambers are ...”

“Can’t make it that far,” she gasped, starting to untie his trousers. “Want you now.”

“Now?” He again looked around nervously. “Where … exactly?”

“Here.” She grabbed at his arms and spun him around until her back was against the wall instead, lifting her skirt and throwing one leg up around his hip. He caught it automatically as she kissed him again and his hands slid slowly up her leg as she settled herself back against the stone.

Jon gasped as his hands encountered nothing but bare skin as they travelled further up her thighs. “Are you telling me you weren’t wearing _anything_ under that dress all through the meeting?”

She smirked at the look of shock on his face. “I obviously should have told you,” she mumbled as she began to untie his trousers and rummaged inside so she could start to caress him. “Then perhaps you wouldn’t be quite so slow in seducing me.”

“Dany,” he gasped. “I’m really not sure we should ...” That was about as far as he got before she grabbed him firmly and positioned herself in such a way that he had started to enter her before he’d even realised what was happening. He growled then and she knew she had him and that he had finally stopped thinking about anything else but her. A heartbeat later he had lifted her up, his hands under her thighs as he pressed her firmly against the wall and pushed himself into her.

“Yes ...” she hissed, revelling in the delightful pressure between her legs and against her back. “Finally.”

~o~0~o

“Seven Hells, Dany,” Jon gasped once they’d finished, his cheeks red from both the exertion and the thought of just how public their coupling had been. “What was all that about?”

“I told you,” she replied. “You were looking far too delicious to resist.” She adjusted her own clothes and then looked down the mercifully empty corridor before pulling Jon along after her.

“But ... anyone could have come along then and … I really shouldn’t have been that rough with you considering your condition.”

She scoffed. “It’s my condition that’s the problem.”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“Well, it’s good that you’re not quite so sick any more and my other symptoms have eased because we’re really going to have to make sure we see a lot more of each other from now on.”

“Well, that should be easier now most of the lords and their retinues are leaving?” he suggested.

“Perhaps, although Drogon and I are going to have to take far more trips further south as a result.”

They had finally reached their chambers and she pushed it closed with a relieved sigh before quickly starting to untie her dress.

“Dany?”

“We’ll talk after you’ve given me some more attention, Jon. I still can’t think straight.”

“But we’ve only just ...” He frowned. “Didn’t you finish out there? I was fairly sure that-”

“-Yes, you were wonderful, as usual, but that was then. Now I need you to work your magic again. Preferably with that clever tongue of yours.”

“Gods, Dany!” Jon moved forwards slowly as she lay naked on the bed and opened her legs wide, inviting him closer. “What is it, really?”

She sighed. “It’s this pregnancy it … increases my appetite. It did that before but I wasn’t really sure if that was going to be the same this time around.”  She sighed.  "Apparently it's even worse."

“Increase?” Jon laughed nervously as he crawled up onto the bed with her. “You were hardly shy and retiring about it before.”

She gave him a wicked grin. “Well then, I hope you are feeling stronger, my wolf, because I expect I’m going to continue to be this ‘hungry’ for another couple of months at least.”

“Well, talking of hungry,” he said as his hands gently slid up her bare legs and his lips followed close behind, trailing soft kisses in their wake, “it has been a little while since I last tasted dragon so … you’re certainly not going to hear me complaining.”

~o~0~o~

A month had passed since the Night King had been destroyed, Winterfell was returning to something resembling normal and the weather continued to be relatively mild for the season. The castle was no longer bursting at the seams, as most of the lords had returned home, and half the queen’s army had already began their long march south. Rhaegal had finally managed to make his way back, his wing mercifully showing some sign of healing, and Dany had found him a shelter in the nearest edge of the Wolfswood just west of the castle where both her and Jon could easily visit. 

Jon’s odd symptoms had disappeared completely, although he was now exhausted for other reasons, with Dany’s sexual appetite showing no sign of abating and her regularly waking him up in the middle of the night or accosting him during the day in order to have her wicked way with him. Just like her, Jon had been an energetic and enthusiastic lover _before_ this, but even his fitness and stamina was being tested nowadays and she did sometimes feel a bit guilty knowing that she had her husband wrapped around her finger and he would never refuse her demands, no matter how inconvenient or unconventional they might be, especially now her stomach was beginning to noticeably swell and his possessive and protective side was coming to the fore.

He was starting to fuss over her, she noticed, and she hoped he’d not become annoying about it as the months progressed. She understood his concern, of course, especially considering what had happened to both of their mothers, but there was no point worrying now when they had so much to do before all of that. She _had_ to fly, despite his concerns, because Rhaegal still could not and Jon needed to spend time with Sansa and their advisors in Winterfell, in order to ensure that the north was governed effectively, whilst the whole alliance started to make tentative military plans for the southern battle.

But the information filtering up to them now was confusing. Although Cersei had initially sent troops to retake all of Dany’s conquests, Varys’ little birds were now bringing news of most having returned to King's Landing, some before they’d even reached their original destination. Daenerys flew tentatively further every day, first continuing her talks with those at The Neck and ensuring safe passage for her troops once they arrived, before moving even further south, using the knowledge she and Jon had learnt from their northern scouting to remain as high up as possible and not give any warning of her presence. So far though it seemed the news was correct, there was no sign of any large force heading up the Kingsroad or of enemy troops lying in wait in hidden valleys, no matter how far south she began to venture.

“You should come with me on Drogon tomorrow,” she said when Jon continued to quiz her about her latest scouting during their usual small council meeting. “Then you can see for yourself what’s going on down there.”

“I admit it would be good to see this first hand," he replied.

“It makes me nervous enough with just Daenerys up there,” Tyrion said. “Is it really worth having both of you travelling together?”

“I fly really high now,” Dany replied. “It’s just scouting and we both know how to deal with that by now. Six pairs of eyes up there makes it even safer, to be honest.” Although she had an ulterior motive here, of course and, the suspicious look Jon turned towards her then made her think that he had perhaps guessed as much. She lifted the hem of her skirt very slightly and he looked away, cheeks reddening as he quickly got the hint.

As the meeting ended the queen stayed where she was, her hands on the table and her head bowed over the map, as she made it look to everyone else as if she was studying her flight plan. Jon started to talk with Davos as they headed out but Daenerys called his name, her eyes still on the map and that was all the excuse her husband needed to say his farewells and turn back, eyeing her suspiciously as he closed the door.

“What are you up to, my little dragon?”

“As if you didn’t know. Come here, my wolf.”

“Seriously? Here in the council room?”

She laughed at his expression as he approached. “It’s not as if we haven't done it in more bizarre places these last few weeks.”

“True.” He stopped in front of her, his eyes sparkling. “What are you wearing under that skirt today?”

“Nothing.”

He licked his lips. “Hmm, I did wonder.”

“I thought you seemed a little distracted at the end there. What were you thinking about, exactly?”

“I was thinking how naughty you were, attending all these important meetings wearing no underclothes,” he replied. “I was thinking about how I should punish you for your lack of respect.”

“I thought I was your queen?” she countered. “I thought you had promised to obey me.”

“I thought _you_ said we were equals, in which case, who else can spank you when you step out of line?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Should you really be spanking me in my condition?”

“Ha! You can’t have it both ways, Dany. You can’t tell me not to treat you differently and then say that.” She just grinned at him. “But what I have in mind won’t do our baby any harm. Now, get down on your hands and knees and accept your punishment.”

She gasped at the dark look in his eyes and surprised herself at how quickly she obeyed, lowering herself to the floor and lifting her skirt at the same time, looking at him over her shoulder as he joined her on his knees, running his hands exceptionally gently over her bare curves.

“Beautiful.”

“Weren’t you going to spank me?” she asked.

“I was,” he replied but his hands when they brushed her were so gentle which she decided was probably even more frustrating. “But now I’ve just thought of an even better idea.”

“Oh?” she asked, licking her lips as she watched him begin to untie his trousers. “I wonder what that might be.”

~o~0~o~

“I’ve missed flying!” Jon shouted in her ear as they flew south the following day. “I don’t think I realised just how much until now.”

“I hope you can get back on Rhaegal at some point,” she shouted back. “Although I worry that he may never be able to fly well.” She felt him nod against her back and then move his hands slightly, one gently stroking over her stomach, the other against her thigh. “Not helping,” she complained.

“Sorry,” he said, “Got a bit distracted thinking about last night … and this morning.”

“I don’t think even _I’m_ desperate enough to try and do anything whilst flying,” she retorted. “Here, we’re at the Neck. From what Jaime said we would have expected Lannister troops to have reached here by now?”

“I would say so, yes.”

Being with Jon was giving her extra confidence and so she urged Drogon further south than she’d ventured recently. Together. They stayed high and used the clouds whenever they wanted to get a closer look and it wasn’t long before they were able to confirm Varys’ reports; the only enemy soldiers they saw that day heading back south towards King's Landing.

“I wonder why?” Jon shouted. “I wonder what’s got her spooked?”

“Perhaps she’s heard of our success? Perhaps she knows we’ll be coming for _her_ now?”

“Perhaps?” But he didn’t sound convinced. The troops would had to have been recalled some time ago, after all, and the northern blizzard should have made it impossible for their news to have got out until very recently. “I just think we have to be careful,” he said then. “We don’t want to make the same sort of error as we did in the north and overlook something really obvious.”

Now that Varys’ news appeared to have been confirmed, Dany decided to fly them east towards the sea, keen to check on the ships that Euron was set to bring over full of hired troops from Essos.

“How long do you think it’ll be until they land?” Jon asked once the fleet were spotted.

“Perhaps a few more days,” she replied. “A week? Depending on the weather.”

“I doubt we’ll be able to get our troops this far south in time?”

“No,” she confirmed, “but it might be worth trying to persuade this lot to turn around too.”

“How?” he asked her suspiciously.

“Perhaps a little demonstration? The Golden Company are sell-swords and were traditionally aligned with House Targaryen. I wonder what they would think if a dragon came along and said hello?”

“What exactly do you mean by 'hello'?” he asked, suspiciously.

“Just a little lesson in manners,” she replied. “Give them a little taste of how us Targaryens deal with our enemies.”

“But ...” Jon obviously seemed a little unsure about such actions. “What if they have weapons?”

“Those ships can’t hold anything heavy enough to do Drogon harm. Just a quick check, Jon, and we won't inflict much damage. If nothing else it will allow us to get a closer look at the threat.”

She urged Drogon downwards before her husband had time to voice any further concerns, skimming low and fast, avoiding the lead ship and instead picking one random smaller ship to fire at, setting just its sails alight. Then she turned Drogon skyward before any on the boats had a chance to react.

“Let’s see if that makes them reconsider,” she shouted as she flew quickly north. “If not, I’ll pay them another visit tomorrow. Now, how about we take a little break at Dragonstone before flying back north?”

“A break?” Jon asked. “Is _that_ what we’re calling it today?”

She laughed, feeling a delightful shiver of anticipation as his arms gently tightened around her. Then the island came into view and she felt another strong emotion hit her. Home. The island, Jon _and_ Drogon, she realised, sighing contentedly as she leant back into her husband’s arms.

“I actually rather miss the place,” Jon said as they got closer. “Considering that I considered it a prison when I first arrived.”

“And what could have possibly changed your mind about that?” she asked him slyly.

“You, of course,” he said, leaning down to kiss her neck. “Now, tell me, little dragon. How are you feeling right now?”

She placed one hand behind her back, ran it down his chest and then lower still until she could feel how hard he was through his trousers. “About as keen as you feel,” she replied. “Let’s try out _our_ royal chambers.”

“What?” Jon asked in mock-horror. “In a bed? How … conventional.”

“You’re quite right,” she agreed laughing. “I tell you what, seeing we’ve the whole place to ourselves, how about the new Targaryen king and queen try out their ancestral throne? You sit on it and I’ll sit on you. What do you think ... your Grace?”

Jon leant closer to reply, breathing warm air in her ear. “Sounds like fun, your Grace.”

~o~0~o~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the attention and lovely comments. It really is very much appreciated.
> 
> Don't forget to vote for you favourites in the[ Jonerys Fanfiction Awards 2018](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSeT08SkDKcO1Td2CPL9hLRHZzX61jZNus1ZlhonC5VUhSPwjA/viewform) 'Silent Declarations' has been nominated in the #Boatsex categtory but there are loads of other wonderful fanfics to vote for across a number of categories.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Previously:**  
>  SD starts with the lead up to #Boatsex. When it happens, the dragons react loudly!  
> Jon finds out the truth about his parentage and the Wall immediately on reaching White Harbor.  
> Rhaegal accepts Jon and he flies with Dany to scout and help with evacuations.  
> At Winterfell, J&D tell a handful of trusted members about Jon's parentage.  
> J&D quietly marry in the Godswood & Arya disappears.  
> J&D decide to attack the Night King on their own, away from the army.  
> Jon and Rhaegal are injured and both riders and dragons suffer from each other's symptoms.  
> Jon tells the northern lords about their marriage alliance & Dany tells Jon why he's been throwing up.  
>  Plans are made to take King's Landing

The battle raged all around him but, despite his dislike for killing, Jon felt a strange sense of belonging here on the field with Longclaw back in his hand and enemies pressing him on every side. There was an odd comfort to it, despite the vicious slaughter, facing one Lannister soldier, then another. A turn, a cut, a parry, a slash. On and on and yet ... something didn’t quite feel right.

He took advantage of a brief lull to look up, survey the scene of battle and see if he could work out what was going on. Their army was now pushing forward comfortably, with little for Drogon to do up above and relatively few casualties on their side. The dragon had swooped down near the start, using a similar tactic to the one employed on the ships - minimum damage for maximum effect - letting the enemy know exactly what they were up against and informing them in no uncertain terms that they were no match for just one dragon, let alone the Targaryen queen’s vast army.

And then the battle was over just as quickly as it had begun and Jon felt strangely lost and confused. He had honestly expected far more resistance and the earlier reports of Lannister troops returning south made him all the more certain that Cersei was giving them false comfort and that there was worse to come.

He and Dany had visited as many castles and strongholds as possible on their journey south, asking to parley with various lords whilst attempting to convert them to their cause. Few had refused. If they could not be persuaded by the beautiful and inspirational king and queen with their offers of food, supplies and support, they’d be pressurised by Drogon instead and, thankfully, none had been quite as stubborn as the Tarleys in that regard.

“That can’t be it,” Jon said to his wife as she dismounted Drogon. “There’s got to be more.” She approached him, a deep frown on her face as she saw him covered in blood. “I’m all right. Most of this isn’t mine.”

She pulled a face and stretched, a hand in the small of her back; her pregnancy now clearly showing on her small frame after four months. “I agree it all seems far too easy,” she said. “We’ll move our camp forward now to Rosby and regroup there in preparation for the next attack.”

He gave her a firm nod, almost a bow, before turning to carry out her orders; falling comfortably into his role as her northern commander whilst on the field. Tomorrow, however, he would be her king again, dressed as a Targaryen and using whatever means necessary to persuade the local lords to capitulate rather than fight.

~o~0~o~

“We’re getting the strangest reports from the survivors of the latest battle,” Varys said during that evening’s war council meeting. “Reports of Cersei recalling her army almost two months ago, before sending various commanders off to defend castles that are a long way away from our route south.

“And what of _this_ battle?” Jon asked. “I was convinced that it must be some sort of decoy army. It just seemed far too small to be a serious threat.”

“Most of our prisoners say they were expecting back up too,” Tyrion said. “But they had assumed they would have arrived _before_ the fight. No-one seems to have any definite knowledge about supporting troops that may still be on their way.”

Jon thumped a hand on the table. “None of this makes any sense!” he shouted.

“Agreed,” Tryion said quietly.

“Your Graces? My lords?” Grey worm entered the pavilion with a terrified young man in tow. “This boy has a message from King’s Landing.”

Dany moved closer, smiling gently when the messenger looked as if he was about to turn tail and run. “You have something for me?” she asked kindly, holding out a hand.

The lad nodded and handed over the scroll which clearly displaying the lion sigil on its seal. The queen nodded and brought it over to the table, showing it first to Tyrion who nodded in return, acknowledging its authenticity before she opened it. She stared at the words in front of her, frowning, not quite believing what she was reading.

“It says, ‘I, Cersei of the House Lannister, do hereby secede the Iron Throne of Westeros to Queen Daenerys and King Aegon of House Targaryen.’” She looked up, shocked, staring at the equally stunned faces surrounding her. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s it?” Varys asked her. “There’s nothing more?”

“That does not sound at all like my sister,” Tyrion said, holding out his hand to take the scroll for himself.

“King Aegon?” Jon asked. “How would she know about that? Not even the northern lords have been informed of my birth name.”

“There is indeed something very odd about all of this,” Varys agreed. “But I have no idea of what course of action to suggest.”

“I think we should just continue with the original plan,” Daenerys said. “Continue to head forwards with the whole army towards King’s Landing and expect the unexpected. This had got to be some sort of trick.”

“But how does she know that name?” Jon repeated, still unable to put that particular concern to one side.

He had initially been so reluctant to accept his Targaryen heritage that he’d refused to accept the name Aegon whilst they were up in Winterfell. Who could have passed on such news to Cersei and why would she believe it even if they had? He and Sam had the evidence now, it was true, but Jon had typically been sitting on that too, not even telling Dany what he had discovered down in the Winterfell crypts. The information was mostly for his own benefit after all and he still hadn’t decided if it was something he even wanted to publicly announce.

“Should we send a reply?” Jorah asked.

“What reply could we give?” Dany said, shaking her head. “No, I’m not prepared to accept this nor to acknowledge it any way. I think we should all retire now, think about this message and see if anything comes to mind. See if we can think of any piece of news or information which might help us to interpret it.

~o~0~o~

Jon was sitting in the royal pavilion nursing a horn of ale whilst still trying to work out the meaning behind that odd message from Cersei. Although he was aware that Daenerys had entered, his mind simply refused to switch off and so he hadn’t fully registered her calling his name. She tried again, louder, quite obviously frustrated by his distraction.

“Aegon!”

“What?” He turned around, glaring, to find his wife’s eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Well, you responded to _that_ name faster than you did to Jon,” she teased.

He glared at her. “I was thinking.”

“You were brooding,” she corrected. “And I thought I was getting you out of that habit.”

He finally managed a small smile. “I wouldn’t get too hopeful about that.”

“Hmm, sometimes it can be quite sexy but, right now, I need to be _distracted_ from thoughts about that message not reminded about it.”

“Oh?” He strode closer to her then and she licked her lips, smirking.

“Ah, _finally_ , I have my husband’s full, undivided attention.”

“Almost undivided,” he said, placing a hand on her stomach and gently stroking it. “You have competition for my affections now, remember? What do you want me to do to you tonight, my queen?”

The question was suggestive but also necessary now that Daenerys was getting larger and Jon was becoming nervous about hurting her. She seemed exceptionally unconcerned about it, but at least it was giving them the excuse to explore a few more interesting positions. She started to undress, her eyes on him all the time, obviously enjoying watching him watching her.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked as he slowly walked towards her.

“It is a little cold in here,” she replied, “but I’m assuming you’ll be solving that for me very soon.”

“Hmm,” Jon replied, encouraging her to stand by the side of the bed. “I’m sure I can think of something.” He ran his fingers over her naked body gently, first her face, then her neck and shoulders before caressing her breasts, smiling as he took note of how much more they filled his hands nowadays. Then they slid down to her stomach, his touch softer as he rubbed her there, before his gaze was drawn lower, following the path of his fingers as they travelled between her legs.

Dany groaned, sitting on the side of the bed and widening her legs, offering herself to him. _‘Lips or fingers?’_ he wondered, enjoying the dilemma, before choosing the second option caressing her fairly roughly until she dropped back onto the bed with a louder gasp, his name falling from her lips.

He quickly untied his trousers then, moving closer to the bed, standing against the edge and lifting her legs up and around his hips, before continuing to use his fingers on her, watching carefully in order to work out when would be the best time to enter her properly. Such calculations were unnecessary, however, his wife only too happy to let him know exactly what it was she wanted.

“Jon … now …. please! I’m ready for you. _So_ ready for you.”

He groaned on hearing her desperate pleas, shifting her hips a little higher and placing a pillow underneath to give her more support, before moving closer still so she could wrap her legs high up on his waist and allow him to enter her with ease.

“You all right?” he asked as he slid out and then back in slowly, keen to check that her groans were of pleasure and not pain, stroking one hand on the swell of her stomach as he tried to resist the temptation to be rough with her.

“Jon … please … not so gentle.”

He smiled, speeding up a little, but still trying to restrain himself, using his fingers again to help draw her over the edge as he felt his own pleasure mount to a delicious climax.

Drogon’s accompanying roar tended to make him feel more smug than embarrassed nowadays, even knowing that most of their army now understood what such cries meant. Daenerys’ appetite had seen little sign of abating and so now Jon wasn’t the only one being woken up in the middle of the night by the queen’s demands, often more than once. The looks thrown the king’s way by his commanders first thing in the morning tended to be a mixture of exasperation and adulation, although only Tormund dared to make any comment to his face.

“Surprised you can even walk straight this morning, boy,” he had teased after one of Drogon’s especially vocal nights and Jon felt no need to explain that it was his wife’s pleasure the dragon was responding to and not his own. 

~o~0~o~

The following day started quietly, with scouts reporting no sign of Lannister troops heading their way. Dany took off on Drogon for confirmation and also checked that what was left of Euron’s fleet and the Golden Company were still in retreat back across the narrow sea after a few more of her persuasive fly-pasts had continued to reduce the number of sea-worthy ships.

“Nothing,” she said as she strode into the war pavilion later that day. “It’s all quiet.”

“Too quiet,” Jon mumbled.

“Yes,” she agreed, “but I see no reason not to continue forward as planned. It’s all we _can_ do, after all.” She looked at Varys and Tyrion, the ones who always seemed to be the most cautious about their various plans over the last few months, but the pair shrugged, just as confused by all of this as the young leaders were.

The following morning saw the whole army spread out around the city walls of King’s Landing with still no sign of resistance. Their scouts reported a city going about its daily business with all gates open and lightly guarded, and no sign of obvious war preparations. So, there was nothing else for it, they supposed. No real reason why they shouldn’t just head down and march into the city.

A bright flash of green on top of Aegon’s Hill interrupted the frustrated conversation as all eyes turned to see the Red Keep burst dramatically into flames. A few heartbeats later the sound of the explosion reached them and the whole party gaped at the sight, blinking and shielding their eyes against the green glare.

“She’s done it again!” Tryion was the one to break the silence. “How many more people is she willing to kill?”

“What if we’d not been so cautious?” Jon said. “Perhaps she timed that expecting us to be inside the Keep by now?”

“Perhaps, but ...” Dany shook her head, quickly turning on her heels and striding off.

“Where are you going?” Tyrion asked.

“I’m going to take a look,” she replied. “Coming Jon?”

He nodded and followed her towards Drogon, both now able to mount the dragon with ease. They flew high and fast swooping over the walls, seeing crowds of people now torn between gawking at the burning castle or at the sight of a fully grown dragon flying in overhead.

“It seems to have been a relatively small explosion,” he said. “I doubt there was much wildfire left after the Sept incident anyway.”

“It does seem to have been focused on one part of the castle,” Dany agreed. “And doesn’t appear to have effected the city at all.”

“The fire is still burning though so we best return to our army for now.”

Jon continued to scan the crowds below, looking closely for any further traps, but saw nothing to concern him. Was that really it? Could they simply march into the city unopposed?”

~o~0~o~

They walked cautiously into the Great Hall of King’s Landing, its red stone turned black, the roof shattered and partially open to the grey sky, whilst snow fell lightly all around them.

“I’ve been here before,” Dany whispered as she edged closer to Jon. “I’ve seen this in a vision.”

“I never have been here in this Hall,” he said, looking down at the whiteness settling on the floor below him. “Winter really _has_ come to Kings Landing, although I never thought that that would be quite so literal.”

“Snow had arrived in the heart of the capital,” she said, shooting him an amused smile. “In more ways than one.”

“True, although I am not here as a Snow or a Stark.”

“No,” she agreed taking his hand. “You are here as my king and a Targaryen king in your own right and here … here is _our_ throne.”

They walked towards it, hand in hand, the swords of the conquered now blackened by wildfire as well as dragonfire and Jon pulled a face as he saw it. “Ugly,” he muttered.

“Yes,” Dany agreed. “And I think this fire has helped confirm the decision we’d already made?”

He nodded, looking around at the destruction. “I’m sure Drogon could get his head through that broken wall easily enough?”

“Yes. I remember my vision, the Iron Throne calling to me, tempting me, but I turned away from it. I turned away to face the snow and to find my dragons.” She looked up at him with an amused smile. “It all seems so very clear now.”

Jon smiled slightly in response but he was distracted by something he’d spotted, quickly taking another step up to the dais and towards the throne. “Dany?” he asked. “Is that …? Are those human ashes, do you think?”

She joined him, looking at the odd, grey dust on the seat. “Cersei?”

He shrugged, turning to the others who were all milling around, gaping at the destruction of the Hall. “Tyrion? What do you think of this?”

The dwarf hobbled up alongside Varys and both frowned at the sight, confused. “She _might_ have done that if she felt she had no other choice,” Tryion said, although he sounded sceptical. “Or she could have left some random body there whilst plotting her own escape.”

“That might even be my brother,” Sandor said unemotionally, making them all jump, and Jon turned to to the large man, surprised.

“Why do you say that?”

“I had a vision. As much as I wanted to be the one to finish him off, I knew that fire would be his fate. He knew it too.” He sighed. “Shame it had to be wildfire though. Far too quick.”

Jon pulled a face, unable to imagine having such hatred for a brother.

“The Iron Throne is yours now though,” Tyion said.

Dany looked pensively between it, her Hand and Jon. “No, its time is over,” she declared. “Drogon can have it. We’ll rebuild the castle, of course, but the Conqueror’s Throne will die today.”

~o~0~o~

Half an hour later, Jon was standing at the ruined doors at the back of the Hall, watching as the dragon threw his flame onto the Iron Throne until it was nothing more than a molten stream of metal oozing down the dais, steam sizzling in its path as it encountered the snow on the Hall’s floor.

“An improvement,” a quiet voice said from near Jon’s right shoulder and he turned in surprise.

“Arya! Where have you been?”

She shrugged. “Here, mostly. Out in the city at times too.”

“And … _what_ have you been doing exactly?”

Her lips twitched slightly. “Watching. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” Jon never thought that single word could sound quite as ominous as it did now. “Why did you leave Winterfell?”

“I wanted to see what was happening down here,” she said. “I wanted to find out what Cersei was up to and if I could help.”

“And did you?” he asked, suspiciously. “Did you ‘help’?”

She shrugged. “I really don’t think you want to know the answer to that.”

Jon recalled Sansa’s words to him about how changed their sister was and shuddered. “Do you know what happened here?” he asked more firmly, nodding his head towards the dais.

She shrugged. “Winter came to King’s Landing.”

Jon had a horrible feeling he knew what that meant, but wasn’t sure if he had the nerve to ask her outright. His gaze instead fell on Daenerys as she dismounted Drogon and started to make her way towards them and he smiled at the beautiful sight.

“I see congratulations are in order.” Jon looked down to see Arya’s attention was also on Dany and that she was now smiling broadly. “Because I know there wasn’t enough food up in Winterfell for your queen to have put on _that_ much weight otherwise.”

And despite everything he laughed. “That’s a terrible thing to say, Arya but, thank you.”

“It’ll be good to be an aunt,” she continued simply, smiling more gently at Dany before turning to leave them.

Jon sighed held out his hands to his wife who took them and smiled up at him.

“That’s done then,” he said.

“Yes.” She turned to the rest of her council as they walked forward. “Let’s discover how the rest of the castle has fared and perhaps find an undamaged room in which to hold a meeting. We have a lot to discuss. A lot of plans to make.”

The pair turned to leave but found themselves instead facing a wall of people; all of their council members who’d travelled down with them and a great many others behind, crowding around to see what was going on.

“Your Grace,” Tyrion said to Daenerys, before turning to Jon. “Your Grace.” And he dropped down on one knee. A heartbeat later everyone else followed his lead and Jon swallowed heavily. For all the talk of the future, this felt quite unreal. He and Daenerys were now king and queen of the Seven Kingdoms and there was no-one left with either the claim nor the desire to oppose their rule.

“To Queen Daenerys and King Aegon of the House Targaryen,” Arya called out to the large audience. “Long may they reign.”

~o~0~o~

The next few weeks were a bit of a blur to Jon. Whilst repair work started at King’s Landing, numerous meetings were held in the new council chamber and Daenerys took full charge, giving instructions on how the city was to be managed and who would administer it during their absence. Whilst the queen focused on civilian matters, Jon focused on the military and security aspects, keen to take a fully hands-on approach and ensure all his orders were carried out exactly as he wished.

Then, once all the King’s Landing appointments had been made, the royal couple turned their attention to Dragonstone, choosing the soldiers and advisors who would be assigned to the island stronghold, before flying ahead on Drogon to spend a little quiet time alone and make further plans; both royal and personal.

“This is where we shall raise our family,” Dany declared as they stood in the imposing Great Hall. “Dragons, direwolves and children.”

“Children?” Jon asked.

“Hopefully,” she replied with a soft smile. “But, you’re right, let’s just focus on this one first.”

He ran his hands over her stomach with a fond smile. “I would love for you to be able to take it easy now, Dany, but that isn’t going to be possible, is it?”

She shrugged. “We’ve a lot to discuss and arrange while we’re waiting for the others to arrive, but I’ll certainly take this next week to rest as much as possible.”

“Will you?” Jon asked, knowing full well that idleness was not in his wife’s nature.

“Yes,” she replied. “I plan to spend as much time as possible in bed.”

He gave her a suspicious look. “Resting?”

She smirked. “I don’t plan on doing anything that isn’t entirely enjoyable.”

Jon pulled her close, holding her firmly in his arms whilst his gaze landed on the throne and he chuckled quietly.

“What is it?”

“I was just remembering that this was the place where we first met.”

She pulled away slightly to smile up at him. “You didn’t think that much of me back then.”

“Not entirely true,” he said.

“No?”

“I was in awe of your beauty to the extent that I was struggling to remember what I wanted to say.”

Her lips twitched. “You didn’t appear _that_ much in awe.”

“I was a little blunt, it’s true.”

“Well, you certainly gained my attention that day and you’ve held it ever since.” And she buried her head back onto his shoulder.

“Good to know,” he said, holding her close.

“I’m glad we met here,” she said after a little while, “but I’m definitely keen to make some new memories.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re right. I need to rest now.”

He kissed her on the top of the head. “You’ll be tired after all those meetings and the flight up here.”

“Yes, but I have no intention of sleeping just yet. I have another dragon I need to ride.”

“Dragon?”

“Yes, my king. You may be half-wolf but, right now, I need your Targaryen fire.”

Jon laughed gently, bending down to kiss her on the lips, savouring the rare peace and quiet with his beloved queen in his arms.

“Then you shall have it, my love,” he declared. “Fire and Ice. All for you.”

~o~0~o~

**The End**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bringing a multi-chapter fic to an end is such a weird experience as a writer and this weekend I finish off two! Really odd. 
> 
> So, the exact details of what happened in King's Landing are left vague here but I hope I dropped enough hints in this and earlier chapters to make it fairly obvious. Beuna certainly guessed correctly after the last chapter! Well done. 
> 
> My style as always been concise, and this story was always going to focus on Jon/Dany which made the whole Arya plot quite challenging to encorporate.That and the fact that this story was originally intended to be a one-shot. However, for those of you who need to know more, I have plans to work on a side story from Arya's point of view some time in the future, hopefully one that can stand on its own for new readers as well as fill in any gaps from this story.
> 
> Right now though, I'm working hard on my two new Jonerys stories. 'The Girl Next Door' (probable title) is a canon-era AU where Jon and Dany interact as kids and I've only just started with that one. Before that you'll get 'Warg Riders', another canon-era AU which is inspired by the fictional TV show from 'Here Be Dragons' and those of you following that modern fic will start to get a taste of the 'trippiness' I've been talking about recently tomorrow (or later tonight if I get impatient) As you have seen, I hold true to my promises about weekly updates.  Because of that you will only get chapter 1 when I am in a position to guarantee that. Now these two are done I can focus entirely on the new ones and can hopefully start sharing very soon. Check my profile for updates.
> 
> Last chance to vote for 'Silent Declarations' and/or any of your other favourite Jonerys fanfics in the [Jonerys Fanfiction Awards 2018](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSeT08SkDKcO1Td2CPL9hLRHZzX61jZNus1ZlhonC5VUhSPwjA/viewform) as it closes on the 31st.
> 
> Thank you all so much for the support you have given me on my first ever Game of Thrones fanfiction. I hope there will be very many more to come.


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